We Will Lose This.

Coolest thing ever: I hung out with someone that I hadn’t seen since middle school, and she went on my first date with me and Maggie, my girlfriend of the time, my first in fact.

(I was a pimp in the 6th grade.)

Well, somehow it came up that people would always say that me and Maggie were having sex, apparently, or that she’d heard that.

That’s Awesome.

(We dated for 5 months and I only kissed her once; I was in love with her then.)

They thought that I had had sex. That feels so good, that someone’s saying something good about you, a good rumor for once.

(Albeit, it was 7 years ago. But she still remembered. Lasting impressions, people, that’s what I leave.)

I’m a little tired if it seems like I’m writing funny.

Going with that same thing, I was thinking yesterday that the last time I was truly carefree (in the not-caring-what-people-say-about-me-it’s-all-about-us) was when I was with Maggie (and actually Leigh, too, but less so).

I kind of miss that, not being paranoid about people’s thoughts. But it is kinda like the Matrix, and the ignorance (though I’m not quite sure why I’m sourcing it from the Matrix, it’s late like I said).

And Trisha called tonight. It started off weird, like usual, and after a minute I said “Let’s hang out sometime” which is usually the conversation killer (I do it whenever I’m talking to someone I haven’t talked to in a while and I don’t feel like making up conversation, or I feel uncomfortable, etc) but I think she knew that (I’ve done it to her before) and she just

didn’t stop

So good day.

Goodnight.