If You Don't Know Who You Are,

Of Course He Freaked Me Out. Of Course It's Nothing To Do With Me. But None Of That Matters. He Loved Me And Now He Doesn't. I Was Everything To Him And Now I Am Nothing.

I Think That's Such A Beautiful Sentiment. Love Should Only Last As Long As A Very Expensive And Impractical Bikini That Looks Stunning, But Dissolves In The Sea Within Days. So Many Pop Songs Tell Of This Terrible, Tiresome Love That They Want To Last Forever. But That Just Makes Me Think Of Long-life Milk, Acrid And Fake. Love Should Be Like A Movie Trailer. Even If The Film's A Stinker, You Get The Best Laughs And The Biggest Explosions In The Space Of Two Minutes.

Is It Needy? It's Not. We Don't Need Each Other. We Just Really, Really Enjoy Each Other. And We're Good Together. We're Good People Together. And I Have The Funniest Feeling. I Can Really, Truly Touch This All, This Happiness And The Sadness Too, I Can Trace All Of It With My Fingers. It Isn't Theoretical Or Distant. This Feels Like Me. This Is Me. I Love Him, And, For The First Time In A Relationship, I Also Like Me. Every Time He Says "i Love You," I Answer, "i Believe You.

You Want To Know, But Are Afraid To Ask, Whether Or Not I Found Someone. If There Could Be Anyone To Fill That Hole In My Heart After I Lost Him. I Did. "life Is Futile," Says My New Therapist, Michaela, "and No One Gets Out Of It Alive. There Is Only Love.

There Is That Doll Dress-up Quality Of Adorable Teenage Girl Writer, And I Never Felt Either As Adorable As I Was Supposed To Be, Or As Dark As The Rumors, You Know, "she Must Have Slept With The Editor," And I Was Like, "oh My God, I'm Still A Virgin." It Was Very Strange.