Against perhaps my better judgment, I went to see him today. Yet I knew that if I didn't go, I'd just spend my hours wondering what could have happened had I gone to see him.

And after a while, I was just bored.  Sure, he's nice to look at.  When is he not nice to look at?  But we'd already covered our similarities, I felt, and I somewhat scrambled to find topics to talk about.  Or maybe I was tired of the small talk and ready to delve into meatier topics, but I just didn't know what I wanted to talk about.  How would I know he would respond to deeper, probing questions anyway?  He's kinda closed-off that way.

Maybe it was always less about him, and more about what he represented.  And what does he represent? The attractive, charming guys of my world?
Maybe it was about my mindset in things.  I sought to figure him out, to peel away his layers and see what core lay underneath.  But you can't just expect or demand that everyone (or rather, the people you want to get to know) opens up to you.
Maybe it was further disappointment that I was pretty sure he wasn't like me.  And if he were?  Did I just want support, or did I want a boyfriend?

I can never have him.  I can never have a guy like him.  These thoughts pounded into my head Saturday as I sat on the concrete circle in the middle of the fields by the Rec center.

and somehow that's supposed to be ok.  Well, of course.  God has given me everything in the person of Jesus. I harden my heart and I don't let myself believe that.
I need to tell myself that God has someone better out there for me.  Or whether or not there's someone, at least He always has Someone here for me.  

I find this absolutely ridiculous.  6.5 weeks and nothing has changed too much with my feelings.  I told him I came to see him again, and he laughed, and was like, "Oh, thanks." as if I were joking.  I didn't tell him I was serious.

Maybe that's why it is more about what he represents.  I feel as if normal people don't sustain infatuations over a period of a month and a half on the basis of seeing the person about 5 times in those 6 weeks and having a conversation or even just saying "hi" to them three out of those five times.  There must be some deeper psychological nonacceptance of my situation that causes me to pine after him and lament about him to my friends.

Maybe it's just trying to not let go of something I know I can't have, but I still want anyway.  Or rather, I don't actually know I can't have this, and by that I mean I don't internalize it and understand it--instead, I simply seek and want what in the back of my head I know is not good for me, but I don't want to believe what's in the back of my head.

I watched Hieu Tran's short films, A Hundred and Eleven and Scripts, and they had that WongFu Asian-American, youtube video feel.  The difference was that they had adorable characters in same-sex relationships and I enjoyed watching them in this sort of guilty pleasure, sort of true respect way.  Maybe it's been those videos and the few dozens of times I've played that Jason Chen cover of  "It Girl" that have gotten to me.

All I have in this post is a bunch of maybes.  I think to an extent, it's everything I've written out.  I've said maybe because I can't know for sure.

I have nothing to wrap this post up with, except tiredness.  So bundle up, post.

Actually, strangely, hope rises in my heart again... now when I least expect it.  Perhaps this is the meaning of having an outlet for one's emotions... being able to analyze them or at least see them in a way that is separate from oneself but still a part of one's being.  I can externally see that they aren't everything that I am, and so I can deal with them as being just a part of who I am right now, knowing how quickly things may change.  Just getting things out there sometimes is enough to let me retreat and go back to living my life normally.