"In shallow holes,

moles make fools of dragons."



I mentioned some time back that I had lost my cell phone and gotten another to replace, but in the process of losing, looking, and re-purchasing, my contact list was obliterated. Erasing important numbers I had not memorized (shocker, Anthony's, but not Jack's!). This event also cleared Thomas' number, which for the passed few days I have been sort of... pining for.

Usually, this is a post I would find pointless, as I have recently posted one regarding similar issues yesterday. However with Ryan MIA, I have no one to confide in; no one to listen to me. And while this stupid little computer diary doesn't respond to my issues, I feel better once I've posted and can re-read my dexterity.

If there is anything good about me aside from physical appearance (don't take that negatively...), I am a good actress when it comes down to it. I may be a one-time crackwhore, a past-life pothead, and I may have gone to rehab for Alcoholism. Yet, the one thing I pride myself on is my acting ability. I suppose it is because after all these years of lying, I've just gotten supremely good at it. Though, I've yet to harness my skill for anything worth while aside from lying, maybe I will in the future, but that's a topic for a later time.

In my life, I have asked for many things; some may call it praying. Though I can't say I'm really asking God for help, but moreso--any higher power that'll listen to me. A zit popped up on my nose, and I'd ask him to erase it. My grandfather was hanging on for his life, and I asked him to give me a few more months. My driving test was wrecking havoc on my nerves, I asked to pass. My family went through a rough patch where money was scarce, I asked for more. For courage, for power, for... fame. You name it, and I've undoubtedly asked for it. It's greedy and selfish and while I know that, it never stopped me.

Although, as of yet, my askings have been left unanswered. The zit? Took a week to clear up. My grandpa is still dying, slowly, but sadly. My driving test was a waste of time and I hit on the instructor to pass. As for money? We're better off, but don't expect to see our name on the Forbes list any time soon. I have little courage, skim power, and as for fame, you'd think I'd be writing on Blogspot?

Until yesterday. Like I said, I lost my contacts and Thomas' number in the process. Recently, I've been asking that he'd call me. After all, that's how we first started talking in the first place. He called me for one thing or another, and we couldn't hang up. So I thought, why not ask to sorta... rewind time? Not literally, but in enough sense that the past would repeat itself, and he would call me once again.

I started thinking of ways I could lure him into my trap. They were all what-ifs and the scenarios are nothing short of fiction, but my imagination never stops.

My first ploy was to walk across the street to the hotel a few blocks down, call him, ask him to pick me up, and cry in his arms. However, that's not only manipulative, because that probably wouldn't stop me anyway, but I didn't have his number and I'm not really a crier.

I then thought, hey, how about a mysterious bruise on my face? And an imaginary boyfriend that hit me? Thinking it through, none of that would work, as bruising my face would probably hurt more than worth, and chances are, he'd call the police on Domestic Violence... for a guy that didn't even exist.

So, instead, I sulked in my dorm, watched a few epis of Gilmore Girls, and sulked some more. Then, suddenly from the dresser behind me, my phone vibrated loudly, causing my to jump abruptly and spill the popcorn in my lap. When I reached for my phone, it was a text from a number I didn't know. I asked who it was, then coyly texted Bailey for the number.

Lo and behold, fucking Thomas had texted me. You'd think I'd be up in arms, calling him with unknown bruises and tears pouring out of my eyes like Niagara Falls, but yet, I was second-guessing myself, thinking... Fate doesn't work like this.

Some bitch up there is trying to spite me.

Either way, he never answered my text, so I never go the chance to talk to him. I moved on quickly, shockingly.

Later that night, a few friends and I had a movie night. We reminisced of passed occurrences, and someone brought up Thomas' summer fling with STD Sally. While I've never mentioned her before, there is really nothing worth mentioning. I'm not typically a purpose to talk shit about other people because it simply lands me into drama I don't have time for, however, STD Sally happens to be some one shit worthy. A total and complete whore when it comes down to it, she's made her rounds on half the school, once or twice.

I felt irrevocably repulsed. How could I start something with him again when he had made out with STD Sally? (who for possible later reference was once a close friend of mine) I decided right then that it was useless. All of the signs I had been seeing weren't signs, but merely me being retarded.

Until today. If his name turned up once, it turned up fifteen times. I'm doing research papers for a few classes and it seemed every source I looked up, his name appeared as the author (first name, obviously). The book I started today for my Lit class, oh, who could be the love-interest other than Thomas? The main character refers to her best friend as Thomas, his middle name, while his first name just so happens to be the real Thomas' middle name. Trying reading that without getting a headache.

I keep looking for signs, and I don't know why. I suppose that's what I do. I look for Fate symbols to tell me what to say, how to react; and look how I've turned out so far...

I wish so badly that I could talk to Shane, or anyone who will listen, but I can't because I'm not open, at all. I wish I could throw caution (that isn't really caution) to the wind, and do what my hearts telling me to do. But then, as I look back on it, last year at this same time was when I started talking to Thomas.

So, is it history repeating itself? Or is it my past mistakes rising up from the dead so I can rewrite my wrongdoings?

It's like the age-old glass is half full. Is my glass half full? Or has it already leaked to half empty? For some reason, I like the latter.

Figures.

Labels: Thomas