- to you

I liked that song when I heard it this morning. “I won’t fade away…” It’s more a promise than a threat. I’m permanent - the memory of me won’t fade away.

My nightmares have become a regular occurrence. For three or four nights in a row, they were about Max. I wish I could say I didn’t know where all that is coming from, but it would seem that working with Javier is the only catalyst necessary to bring all that unfinished business to the surface.

Strangely enough, last night’s “dream” was a combination of high school, college, and having to turn down Scott Stapp for a date. It wasn’t pretty. I ran into Scott at the office, and we chatted for a while. He asked me out to some event for later in the week, and I told him to meet me at school. First I was in college, sitting in an auditorium waiting for class to begin. Then it was high school, and Scott showed up right when class started.

I skipped out of class to talk with him in the hallway, and he was smoking like a chimney. Smoking cigarettes. (Well, he was smokin’ hot, too.) Some counselor jerk saw me leave class and came into the hallway and dragged me into his office, making snide comments about how I’m “arrogant” and think I “own the school,” etc etc. He told me I was going to spend the entire night at school as punishment.

As his commentary became rude, mine did as well. I informed him that I was not staying at school, because I’d been invited on a date with Scott Stapp and I was damn well going. We went ’round and ’round about it, until I was begging him to let me go.

The bell rang, and I asked Scott to wait for me outside the classroom. He did. The next class was taught by the counselor, who managed to slam on me three times before I told him he’d crossed my boundaries, I wasn’t staying at school, and I left.

That was it.

I guess I could nitpick the hell out of it, but it makes me too tired. In a general sense, I’d say I’m continuing down the path of being stressed as hell and not getting enough sleep.

I’m not getting enough exercise either, apparently, as Justin told me this evening that my “legs look fat.” That’s nice. That comment came about 20 minutes after he told me that he’s miserable when I’m around. That’s exactly what he said. “I’m miserable when you’re around.” I told him that he hurt my feelings, and he shrugged. (Playing with the boy who lives behind Dan’s house was thwarted by the fact that I had picked him up after work. Hence, I make him miserable.)

Eh, everyone has a bad day now and again. And hell, he’s seven years old. I’m not going to take that personally.

Except for the “fat” remark. That I’ll take personally.

Dreading sleep,

michelle