Summer. The resting time. A reverse kind of hibernation...A time to pine. Why do I insist on this kind of self-torture? Don't I have enough to worry about without the added burden of Feelings and Emotions? Can't I just live in substance but not form? I suppose that's another plus-side of the internet. Unless you send images of yourself, you don't have a body that people attribute you to...you can be anything you want. That's what I don't like about the real world: You are what others perceive you as, and for people like me - introverted but brim full of ideas and opinions - it's a fucking Catch-22, man. They all formulate their opinions of you, and then your own unwillingness to correct their assumptions lead you in this goddamn downward spiral that never ends and ends only when you die. Oh shit, I feel a drunken episode coming on, but fuck that, right?

You know, I thought getting out and getting a job would allow me to meet some nice, decent guys. I work in a bookstore now, and there's this guy who works in the cafe half the week. He's polite, respectful, but he's also got a sense of humor. And...he avoids me - and hell, all people - like the plague. He's not gay, not that I know of, but it seems he just likes keeping to himself. Sound familiar? Yeah. I felt like I was looking in to a goddamn mirror the first time he gave an evasive answer and skipped off to the bathroom. He's *exactly* like me. I'm attracted to him because he's intelligent and nice...is he similarly attracted to me? How would I know. I always prided myself on being the ambiguous one in relationships - a stereotypical mouse with too many activities lined up when getting invited somewhere but too much time on her hands when she's sitting like a doorknob in front of the computer...but this time it seems like I've met my match. You know, we could be something; quite the couple.

I saw him behind the counter reading a battered copy of 1984 yesterday - one of my favorite books. (George Orwell is God.) So, after my shift, I bought my usual mocha latte and sat down to read...guess what? Animal Farm. Second copy of it. I was hoping that maybe he'd notice and it would pique his interest...maybe we'd strike up a conversation...but he seemed to be so fucking absorbed in the goddamn coffee machine. Damn modern appliances. If I dress up in double-shined chrome, will he notice me then? The problem is...I'd never do it.

~AF

P.S. Pardon for the raving and the cursing. I'm a tad bit drunk...thank god for spellcheck.