mum worries about me moving into the other bedroom of a two bedroom flat directly beneath the bartender's one-bedroom flat in august. i say, "we're over it."

but then, my phone calls aren't ever getting returned.

and i think he resents that i plan on remaining v. good friends with his v. bestfriend.

and i know he needs distance and time. [[and that he needs this cos he made a big mistake. [cos i'm a fucking GEM!].]]

and i couldnot care less. honestly! i'm done with it! i'm better than that! i'm stronger than that!

...and then...

well... there are times...

when i'm breaking 2 of the 4 pintglasses stolen from the pub on the 7block walk home--to mum's house--out of frustration? out of anger? who knows.

i must remember not to drive on 7th St. North on my way out of town tomorrow morning.

and for the record, i'm not pissed that he fucked up the relationship [[it needed to be fucked-up...]], i'm pissed that he's [involuntarily?] fucking up the friendship.

...and i'm sorry... but i select my friends with the utmost prejudice and have zero-tolerance for idiots [i.e. involuntary fuckups].