I am sick. I am tired. I am sick and tired. I am sick and tired of waiting for the new boy to fucking gather his fucking thoughts. Fuck him and his fucking ungathered thoughts. My thoughts are gathered into a tight coil, a clenched fist. My thoughts are that I wish I had never spoken to him, that I wish he had just left me alone, that I wish he hadn't coaxed me into believing that he really cared about me when obviously he didn't. I don't care if I ever hear from him again.
Seriously, how long does it take to gather thoughts? We spoke on Saturday night, and it's now Tuesday night. That's three days, not to mention the entire week he had before that. And what's to gather? Does he want to visit me or not? He already said he did, so that should be the end of the fucking story until such time as the visit takes place.
I'm starting to think that I'm destined to become a spinster, and I'm starting to think that might be a good thing.
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