Sometimes when I see her I leave and think, "Great! We're still both in love with each other and she'll take me back no problem." I float out to my car and drive, grinning, to where-the-fuck-ever it is I have to go.

And then there are the times I leave feeling like this. I'm worried, I'm shaking. What if she doesn't take me back and leaves me a quivering jello mold of a man. What if I melt into a puddle and she walks through me. Jesus, what if I'm completely dumped in a month.

It's times like this that I don't understand why so many people react with anger first. I've just got this big empty sadness. A sort of hole. And it sucks. I'm sunk. I'm down.

The hardest part about seeing her is saying goodbye. It can't be a normal friend goodbye. Not right now. Maybe some day, if we don't work it out, maybe some day a couple of months down the line our "See you laters" will stick and we won't have to hold each other and comfort each other. But tonight was hard even for that. She was so unresponsive and sad, and I felt like she'd made up her mind on dumping me right then. She'd made up her mind and I wasn't catching on. What a downer. What a bummer. What a kick in the nuts.

Or maybe it was just really awkward because we were in her apartment saying goodbye. Maybe she wanted to say these things and couldn't because she was crippled with fear that her roommates would walk out and see us and be judgemental and make things ugly. Maybe she wanted to comfort me but couldn't risk looking weak in front of them.

And maybe we'll wake up and find all the people who died of cancer are alive and waiting for us to come out and play. Christ, Krister, get a grip. Occam's fucking razor.

God damn it.