August has been lazy and rather fruitless.
Tony has kept in touch. And I'm frustrated, not at him but at me. Because part of me can see where this is all going. And it feels as if I'm heading there nonetheless.
I hate that he tells me he loves Christmas because it's full of lights and happiness and it's the time for falling in love. Yes, thank you I know that.
I hate how he calls me his dance partner, the way he tells me that of course we synchronise, we dance together.
I hate how private it felt when he found my big glasses funny - "I didn't say they don't suit you, they're just a bit big". It didn't even feel insulting. It was like we were old friends.
I hate how everytime we talk on skype we end up talking for over an hour joking and speaking about our lives and routines and Christmas and New York.
I hate the way I feel when he asks me to visit him.
I hate that once he logged on Skype right after class and then we chatted for an hour.
I hate the loneliness I sometimes feel when we don't talk.
I hate feeling guilty for fantasing I'm with someone else.
I hate hating the messages we send because I'd rather we talk on skype. Text seems so unemotional, I'd rather hear his voice.
I hate that I hate all those things in the first place.
