While I breathe, I hope.

It's either that or stare at the big blank in front of me and go crazy depressed trying to fill it.
On Friday, I constructed a miniature happy place at my computer cubicle in the j-school basement where I spend my most stressful minutes trying to bang out a story my editing teacher will accept for grading.

Calligraphy: from girl on my left. Smoldering: all from Hugh.

I spent the rest of the weekend depressed at my parents' house. Saturday night, I fell asleep before 10:30pm listening to an Eric Clapton's greatest hits album and woke up to the fast version of "Layla" with drool on my pillow and the smell of my own pussy on my fingers. Rolled over and slept for 11 hours.

I am depressed. I can't make myself care about anything and I'm tired all the time. Let's go to some Frequently Asked Questions to find out why, shall we?
Q: Do you regret your decision? (From my mom. She's talking about me dumping BF. She's asked this at least once every time I've gone home since then.)
A: Yeah, to be honest. I threw away one of my best friends and a giant chunk of my support system just exactly when I need both the most.
Q: But it's not really about BF specifically, is it?
A: No. I'm not scared of being alone. I'm scared of being lonely. Which is what I am right now.
Q: Are you ever going to talk to/hang out with Mike alone again?
A: Yeah. He actually called me during class and left a "rambling" voice message (like a minute thirty long. Ha. I'm the whole reason Katie doesn't check her voicemail anymore.) about grabbing dinner Friday. I called him back and had to tell him I was going home, like, then. But the thought made me happy.
Q: Are you in love with Mike?
A: Maybe. Probably. I love the way he always deliberately says my name when we part for the night, if that means anything.
Q: Are you ever going to speak to/have sex with Bluetooth again?
A: No. No, he doesn't want me anymore, and I'm tired of chasing him.
According to Suitemate, he and Clingy went on a coffee date today to discuss their status. Finally some straight talking, or maybe that's my optimism showing.
I want to kick him in the balls as an ending punctuation. Closure, you understand.
Q: So whatcha doing this weekend? (From my dad. He asks this all the time and in so doing, inspires some great big lies from me.)
Well, today I sat and listened to a guitar busker on the steps of the library. He was cute and he played "Wonderwall" and all his songs kind of sounded like "Wonderwall" but he was cute and I hope I didn't freak him out by being the only one sitting there listening.
Other than that, I plan on frying my retinas with the Internet and ignoring everything else except my soft dark bed in a couple hours.

I can't do this.