I went and got breakfast with Nick this morning at this cute restaurant down the street. The owners, a cute hippie couple that always seem high our of their minds, make the best egg and cheese breakfast sandwiches on homemade bisquits. Nick and I take them down to the water and eat them on the benches while ducks huddle close for our crumbs. We even have three favorite ducks, whom I’m named Matthias, Matilda, and Modina.

I spent the afternoon packing away, felt like it would get my mind off of PK. I opened up a bottle of red wine sometime around 12 and had had three glasses by 1. Found my old boyfriend box, the one that housed all of the letters and trinkets from the former fiance era. Decided it best that I make a fire in the backyard and burn everything. So I did. Two years I had been hanging on to those things, and it took me about fifteen minutes to build the fire and then burn all of them- the letters, the cards, the pictures of us together, the wine cork from the night we had decided to get married. It was strange because one of the things I burned, a napkin from a restaurant that we had eaten at had my handwriting on it. When I hear particularly nice things, I tend to write them down on any scrap of paper and stuff them in my pocket. This one had “The world will come through” written on it.

We had graduation practice today, which if anything made me more depressed about the situation. I don’t think anyone will really remember what we are supposed to do. The guy seated next to me actually turned to me at one point and asked if I would be offended if he peed on the ground. I asked why he didn’t just get up and walk to the bathrooms, but he said “No no, I mean at the actual graduation. I’m going to be shithoused.” Great. In strange news, the guy that from class that I had a thing for happens to be in my graduation row. Every time he passed me he’d try to get my attention by either putting his hand on my back or hitting my thigh with his cap. Am not sure how to even deal with this anymore. Friend Jason (as I talk about next) seems to think that the guy is intimidated by me, says that I am completely out of the guy’s league. I hope that he just gets his damn act together.

Afterwards I drove to meet my friend Jason for shopping and to get dinner. We ate at this pasta place where I had a giant glass of chianti and a whole wheat pasta with spinach and olives. My speech slurred after that one glass and I sadly ranted about the PK situation.

The thing is, I can’t believe that he is being such a coward. I keep twisting back and forth from feeling desensitized to the whole thing and feeling utterly miserable. He’s actually down from NYC now, probably out with his fraternity brothers, and I am at home planning on more red wine and last night’s Grey’s Anatomy while curling up with my dog. Perhaps a run in between there. Will probably write again as soon as I get good and sloshed. 

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