I'm going to regret writing this post tomorrow because it may be a little too introspective for a blog . . .

Is it very wrong to miss someone from your past? Is it wrong to hope they might pop up again in your future? When does sweet remembrance become obsessive dwelling? When my ex and I broke up, I thought I would never get over her and that I would hold a torch for her forever. I managed a number of years, but I finally grew up and let go. Now I think of __ all the time instead. Well, not all of the time, but a lot. Am I stupid for that? Especially considering that we never officially shared anything at all. I sometimes find myself wondering if all the time I spent with her was just a dream, or that at the very least I built her into something that she wasn't at all and never could be. I wonder if at times she still thinks about me and the times we shared or has she forgotten me completely? I have so much regret . . . such desire to go back and fix things, to put them right. But right for whom? Did I really imagine all of those memories, those secret glances, those flirtations, those times when perhaps just a single word or the slightest touch would have torn a hole in the fabric of the status quo and spilt all the unsaid wants and desires and needs into plain view, into open sight - where they had to be answered? Remorse is a poor bedfellow for the fool that love makes. And which is more foolish: the love or the remorse?
Now I am in a situation where I have someone who likes me, enjoys my company, and wants me. And I . . . I have not a shred of feeling for her. She's a nice girl but there is no spark . . . no intrigue. I feel bad . . . I don't want to hurt her, but I also don't want to engage in some churlish charade, some empty farce simply because I don't have another option at hand. I am not often put in this situation either. The reason of my head cries, "Take what you can get." Which does make sense; I mean the girl is not unattractive to be sure. People always tell me I have such high standards. Is that true? Am I just afraid to accept what may be worldly truth and have my ideals of love and attraction shattered? Who would I be then? And why the fuck can't I just grow a pair of the balls that my gender is so lauded and despised for and fucking call __!?