"You Can Be Henry Miller And I'll Be Anaïs Nin"

As Miss Feist has been telling to my years lately "the saddest part of a brokenheart isn't the ending as much as the start."

It's very cliché to be all melancholic after your heart is broken, and I can't even say if mine actually is, but once the "feeling of possibility" is dead you have to figure out ways to cope with that loss... because even if most of its existence was only in your head, it's still another thing of yours you'll not have anymore.

So on the last two days I've been on my bitchiest mode ever since comment guy, and guess why... a guy. There were no despressive period this time, because once I saw I was still able to leave the danger zone I made my path backwards. Hence the bitchiness. I realized that being bitchy towards the source of my afflictions is a good way to impose myself to myself. Being blasé keeps me from wondering of shoulda woulda couldas.

Last night it was clear to him I was particularly bitchy with him. He asked me why today... I obviously was evasive and said that it would soon be gone. Well, that is true... but why sheding my pride by being utterly honest and exposing even more my weakiness? Falling for an ideal - a wishful thinking - is very beautiful in arts, but in real life is tiresome. Playing the bitch with a good friend because you wrongly fell for him isn't exactly my ideal of pleasure, but for now it's necessary and it's being done.

Today's mood is better than the last days', but I don't know how long will the bitch mode will last. After he asked I offered him a Feist song, When I Was A Young Girl, and considering the lyrics it was an elegant bitchy move of me.

In the end I go back to the Feist's line from the post-top and think there's no better words to describe the silly state of mind I'm in lately. I feel like giving up on romance... surely this won't last forever, but for now I'm just feeling tired. Once again...

[Song: Let It Die - Feist]