Last night, I got the best sleep I've had in weeks. Unfor­tu­nately, I wish there was a pos­i­tive rea­son for this; per­haps either some type of cathar­sis or calm­ness about me, and about recent events. There isn't. Exhaus­tion, pure and simple.

I've found myself think­ing about her all the time, espe­cially after what hap­pened last week. I told her that she's not allowed to let me worry about her that much, but there isn't really much she can do about it. It's just the way I am. I'm a worrier.

I worry for my friend. I miss my friend.

* * *

I'm really of two minds about all of this.

I've been try­ing very hard not to blame her for what hap­pened, to not be angry at her. And as I told her the other day, I'm not. Really. Life really is too short to let good friends slip away. And it's very impor­tant to me to get over this so that I don't lose my friend for­ever. But I don't know how.

I want my friend back.

Long­ing is a bitch.

I don't want to come out hat­ing her for this. But part of me, the part I don't like, knows that if cer­tain things hadn't hap­pened, nei­ther of us would be in the posi­tion we are now. I accept respon­si­bil­ity for my part. I don't know if she does for hers. I don't know if she cares any­more about how I feel. Even if I did, I don't know that it would matter.

I'm not sure if any­thing about this really matters.

The bot­tom line is that there's noth­ing I can do to change it. I tried. God, did I try. And I almost had her. I almost got to keep her. Almost.

Almost doesn't cut it.