contigo. Wednesday, Feb. 25, 2009 2:30 PM

I have to see him sometime this week, to give back something he left here, and he wants to catch up. I am fluctuating between hoping that we can just put this all behind us and be friends, or red hot hate, flowing in a steady stream across my brain. I have visions of us having a cordial drink together, laughing about something dumb and amusing. This is always followed by images of him begging me to come back to him, me laughing in his face, him losing control and punching me hard enough to break my nose, and me laughing some more while his pathetic butt gets hauled off to jail.

I'm not really looking forward to seeing him. I'm not enjoying the prospect of having to see his stupid, perfect face. I know I will want to break it. I know that I can't, because a criminal record would seriously hamper my plans at this point.

I don't know what I want, but this is not it.

Add-on: Happy seven years of this diary.

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