May 18, 2008
Not a fan of couscous
I'm loving summer. Tonight I has a Tunisian dinner with the Arabic professor and her French friend. Then I watched a movie and painted nails with the suites.
Popeguy and I seem to be back to our old selves as well. But whenever he talks about "the house" or his roommates, I get this twinge. A complete attitude change. I understand that those things are part of his life now and he'll talk about it. I mean, I'm going to talk about my apartment and suite mates. But when he does it, it's like there's this knife digging into my stomach and chest, deeper and deeper. I wish the sting would just go away. Even right now, talking about it I can feel it.
I can't explain it, so I won't tell him. He wouldn't understand. And I know it's stupid.
scullerymaid at 12:37 a.m.