I cleaned my bedroom, part of my bathroom last night. I read some emails, putzed around on myspace. That sort of thing. It was quiet. I could have called people; I guess I didn't want to.

You know what's missing? That thread that connects me to someone else, that certain person out there somewhere that's mine (in the figurative sense). When you are in a relationship with someone, even when they aren't with you, not around, far away, there's still a thread that connects you to them. Even if they're at work and you're at home, or if you're halfway across the planet. You reach your mind out and know that on the other end of that thread, they're thinking about you too.

I miss the thread. I'm threadless. So I knit instead.

Kathy lent me the abridged version of "he's just not that into you". It made me cry. All those excuses I've ever made, all the hope I've harboured, all the things said to me, detailed right there for me, staring me in the face, saying "you know what? he never really liked you."

How much that hurts. How much trust that's been taken already, now even more so. That book is meant to help and be uplifting, I know. I guess it was the wrong time for me to read it.

All the positive messsages, the superfox references etc, mean nothing. It's just stuff you say to make the horrible truth not so bad. Isn't it the same stuff, but just the opposite? It's still just lies. Only now we're lying to ourselves in a different direction - instead of making excuses for them, we're putting ourselves into a bubble of everything's ok.

The advice is good. But I can see it turning me even more into a recluse, someone who doesn't reach out at all to the opposite sex. Though I guess even the evil Dr. Phil is right when he asks, and how's that working for you? Meaning that all the reaching out I've done so far in my life hasn't worked, and has done nothing but make me more and more alone and unhappy and hurt and used and such.

I've stopped emailing the Captain in New York, and that book is helping me not bother. If he wants to talk to me he can make the effort, and by the time he does, I probably won't care. I don't really care now, actually, now that I think about it.

It's also a big tip off when someone who used to call you everyday, threatened you, in fact, with calling you every day:

"I'm going to call you everyday, you know that?"

Stops calling you.

And I work him out of my system. Yet another one to archive and forget about.