I worry about you and I dont know if I should anymore. Its been five years since we last talked, and I cant help but sometimes worry. And I cant tell you how hard it is not to text you to see if you're okay late at night. Or to knock on your door and ask you if you want me to get you anything on my way out. You hate me, I get it. You've always hated me. Our entire childhood. I get it. I dont understand why or what I did that was so wrong and honestly, I dont think you do either. And I try not to worry. I try not to care. And some days its hard not to, like today. And I wish I could ask you if you're okay. But I know you wont care that I care. So I dont ask.
Its hot today, and I wish it wasnt. I'm over this heat. My fan is blowing hot air at me. My parents are both taking naps (thats how you know its hot, when both your parents end up napping for no reason). I should be getting ready to go to dinner with the boyfriend, but I'm just not in the mood anymore.
On a lighter note, I had a good random day in Oakland and Alameda yesterday. Going to places of his childhood again. Beautiful shopping centers, beaches with seashells and clear water (and lots and lots of gnats... damn them for ruining the prettyness of the beach), Panera Bread dinners at sunset next to a fireplace, trying disgusting fish oil chews that look/smell like Starburst (oh what a lie!)... it was a nice day out. Wish everyday could be like that.