Crummy (for Natalie)

The last month has been quite up and down. I haven't had any work, and that is bad. I got my records back and kissed a girl. That wasn't so bad. I haven't written in here for far too long. That's bad. Alright, I guess it was mostly down. And to top it all off I can't stop thinking about you, Jessica Flores. I want to, and I even get upset about it. But this town has too much of you in it for me.

I blew it, I really did. Should I accept defeat now? Should I believe in the fact that I probably won't ever find somebody I connect with that way again?

Probably not.

I keep trying to make it happen. I used to just let things happen. That was the way I lived my life until I went away to school. Somehow I had this wild notion inserted into my brain that if you do not try and make things happen for yourself they NEVER WILL. This might be true when it comes to me getting jobs on movie or television sets, sure. Is it true when it comes to love, something that I, for the life of me, can't figure out why I am so obsessed about?

Ever since girls started to matter (the sixth grade), I have always wanted something I could probably never have. I have shown that to be false by ending up in three fairly serious relationships, and there hasn't really been too long of a dryspell in between the less than serious things. Somehow, though, I am always left wanting some kind of romance.

This tricks me into thinking things are far more serious than they are. A girl taking any time to talk to me leads me to believe she might be interested in me. Whatever happened to platonic friendship, Brett? Oh, right, it never existed. At least not right off the bat. You've had some form of mild crush on every girl you were ever friends with. Don't worry, ladyfriends, these are usually brief and defeating once I realize they will never go anywhere.

So, why can't I ignore this bullshit? Why can't I just wait until a girl comes along that I genuinely get along with very well, and that really wants me without me having to act like a jackass and go to some kind of awful bar or place I would never usually go to just to prove that I can "broaden my horizons" and that I am not a stuck up piece of shit? Fuck that. I am a stuck up piece of shit. But I'm kind of nice, and I can be very sweet, if I like you...

Fuck, there I go again, trying to sell myself.
What a whore.