Theory #14: We do stupid things even though we know they're stupid.

Sometimes mistakes are made. Some by accident, other on purpose, and others belong in a special category: that of mistakes that we made, while knowing they were mistakes but hoping that they would not turn out to be so.

  In truth, it is completely and utterly my fault. I should not have invited him over for that cup of hot chocolate. Even if I want to pretend that we're still friends, that's not the way things work, it's only how I wish they did. But other than that we keep up the charade. 
  In front of others it appears. 
  Annie had told me that it was ok, that his feelings for me were probably not so strong. That I had been an infatuation. And though it hurt a bit - because who doesn't want to be loved, even by someone they don't love back that way - I had agreed wholeheartedly and readily. I had even believed it.
  More fool I. 
  There was awkwardness, even though we laughed a lot. He played with my dog, though my dog's motives were not as noble as his were.
  And when he left I said jockingly "Jack, why are you leaving me? That's what my dog would say if he could speak." And he looked at me and I felt my throat tighten and added "You're supposed to be looking at my dog."
  "I'm not looking at the dog," he shot back then waved goodbye and left.
  Sometimes I feel like such a horrible selfish whore. I did not want to lead him on. Why the fuck do I always, always mess things up? 
  I'm sorry. I'm sorry, but I can't be anything more than friends with you.
  I'm not sure whether we truly are friends anymore...

 
  I promise I won't repeat this mistake again. I cannot bear to use you at all.

Theory #13: It goes kind of like this: we mess up, big time. Or they mess us up big time. And then we start again.

 (A letter to L)
 Dear L,

  Wow. December. I look at my calendar in sheer confusion. When did time pass so quickly? When did everything happen? When did nothing happen?
  In the mornings I hate to get up. In the weekends I can get away with it but not during the rest of the week. There's school. And there's you. You tire me. You mess me up, maybe not on purpose but you do.
 

  I was thinking about you the other day and realised that while you helped me find a part of myself that I didn't know before, you have now become a habit. And I'm not sure I like that part of me, I'm not sure I like who I am anynore. I've let many others down, but most of all I've let myself down and I don't want to need you anymore. Not when you're clearly not there.
  I'm just wondering, in your head, what are we?

  Because I'm tired of games dammit. So this is it. The end. It hurts a bit, and I really want to skip the part where I try to let go of everything - everything that still exists anyway -  but this is life and I'll be stronger for all of it. One day some else will come and I'll see you as what you have been to me for some time now: ashes of something that could have been.

    I think the moment deserves a cup of hot chocolate. Goodbye.

P.S. I ought to call Annie. It's been a year since that day.