I found a workaround for my unfortunate decision on my arm. I read somewhere that, by using salt, sand, or sandpaper, you could scratch the skin off, along with the ink. I borrowed velcro from Audrey and got to work. It hurts a lot and I think it's dumb, but it did its job. My arm stings, but I've come up with a lie that works. I'm going to say I got scratched by the cat, and, in turn, itched my arm very, very hard. It might not fool my family but it's worth a shot, I guess.
I have a bad feeling in my heart. There's a guy I know, and I fear we're a tragic case. He's been there for me countless times, and he has my back, but I'm a greedy thing. My heart yearns for being more than friends, and I hate it. I want to scoop my heart out and crush it into a million pieces for being so dumb and inconvenient. I dislike feeling things, for others, or myself. I'm supposed to be smart. I am supposed to be diplomatic. I find feelings, (and, dare I say, love,) very irritating. I am not too fond of it. I hate dating. I hate trusting others. I hate everything sappy because of situations like this. I care about that man so much, and yet, we simply can't be together.
I yearn for someone to love and be loved by. I long for my other half. I believe in true love, soulmates, the red string, whatever, but I find myself growing a deep resentment for people in harmless, happy relationships. I think to myself, how come they can have such ease with love and I can't? It's a nasty feeling like black tar in the deepest, darkest parts of my heart. I feel like it's wrong. I know it's wrong. I know I shouldn't be so hateful and jealous of people better off, but I can't help it. I've never had luck with romance. And maybe I never will.
I should focus more on my studies. Math is consistent, and science has rules. You can predict things from numbers. You can't with people. With certain people.
I've been reading the works of Robert Greene, and I find him very admirable. I try to follow his advice to be strong. To be smart. To be powerful, and, ultimately, the best. I think, if I try, I could do anything.
Maybe not love, though.
Still, Michael.