The End.

Jul 11, 2008 - 17:27 PM PST

I've never heard it said so nonchalantly.

I love you.

There was no heart-felt romance. There was no amazing kiss. There was just no ... fireworks.

It was one of those, "Hey, I'm just calling to say I love you." It was as if to say, 'I care about you, but whatever,' you know?

But the kicker is that I've never had such a nonchalant phrase mean so much to me. I can't believe he said it. I just can't believe it. I counted: We kissed about five times. Pathetic, right?

Two weeks; fourteen days; Three hundred thirty six hours. That's 20,160 minutes. And that's 1,209,600 seconds. So, in a sense, you could say I had over one million opportunities to say what I wanted to say, do what I wanted to do, feel what I so hungrily wanted to feel. But, over 75% of that opportunity was taken away from me. I won't mention names of those responsible; they know who they are.

In short, I've failed. I've failed at what I've striven for for six months. Six months, and all I have to come up with is seven hours, five kisses, and one 'I love you'!

I'm constantly afraid. I'm afraid that if I don't confront awkward moments in life, then I'll be less prepared down the road for those of a similar variety. I'm afraid that I won't be ready, but honestly, what is being ready? What am I preparing for? I'm just constantly thinking, thinking, and thinking. Numbers race through my mind like gusts of wind in a tornado. The only thing that provides an escape is this - the written word.

Tell me it will be okay. Last night, my heart was broken, and then today, he made me happy again. I need to learn that there's no point. One thing is always for certain - he leaves. So why do I get hung up in this mess when I know it won't come out right in the long run?

He leaves tomorrow, seven in the morning on the dot, and all I can do is sit here ... and wonder why I even bother getting my hopes up only to be brought down harder each time.

Love's a strange thing, Quarterlife.