You just happen upon a world where the mind of the girl is in unrest.

She taps her pretty fingers on the keyboard and puts a strand of curls above her lip,

She moves the muscle upward and presents and fake mustache and resumes her frown.

She thinks to herself: "Should I cut my hair?" and "Maybe it's not over."

But it isn't and she fails to listen, looping herself into a hysterical scene of trying not to cry too loud.
Maybe it isn't over, not just yet, maybe she feels a little neglected and he's yet to notice his flaw...but what happens when he doesn't realize it? Should she talk about it? Bring up the subject when he's happy playing with his friends while he takes down a gulp of flaccid liquor?

Does it really count when he says he loves you in a playful voice?

She couldn't help but to think to herself what the outcome would be if she lost again, lost again to the game of life and love. Would she be able to really handle it? Hell she hardly ate and it had only been several days since she had seen him, the morning didn't count when his only comment was about how "perky" her breasts looked. She had felt she had sinned herself, found no reason to call it a day, or even to let him walk away with the last word. Upon which she would find herself scribbling down sarcastic yet subliminal messages about how she would "see" him next week, what would happen if he contacted her before the week was up? Noticed that maybe she'd been just a little distant? Would she gather up enough balls to tell him that she had been feeling neglected or just let it pass like a wave of air?

She was letting her fear devour her sanity and this is what would eventually make her fall, once again, a victim to being a hopeless romantic.

She thought about his gentle quotes from the past-- the way he related so effortlessly to her, she even laughed at the way he tried to reject his feelings for her.

If the feelings she really thought she had for him were true would it mean that maybe somewhere between all the playful accords of "I wuv you." and "Baby Bonsai misses his mommy." could it really be possible that he felt the way she did too?

As piercing as the moment had been an evening ago that was not too far off, she thought of how irrational she had been, how... disgustingly unsettled she had made herself. Not going to sleep until at least three in the morning to talk to herself in her head and write things down that probably made no sense. And then she'd find herself apologizing to him over and over again, like she did something terribly wrong... but no, that wasn't the case, she had come face to face dozens of times with the fear of losing him and at the rate she was going the chance of this happening seemed far off the charts.

Had he become sickened of her? Enough to plan things without her and simply leave her in the dust? Or did he just not realize what he was doing was wrong? Planning a getaway never did seem like a bad idea which is why she chose to work her ass off from the time he was gone even until the time he got back, and just simply ignore him. But that wouldn't be right, she thought about giving him short and vague answers because it might pique his suspicions. Yet the idea flashed in her head again, she could ruin everything for the sake of nothing and lose everything that they had built up but then again, he should be able to justify himself even if it's for two hours of a twenty-four hour day.

Things get stressful, women find themselves in this meticulous loop that they can't get out of, and what causes it? They're own goddamn intuitions. "If I ignore him maybe he'll come around." or "If I cut my hair maybe he'll notice me and understand what I've been going through."

Maybe he'll ask you some questions. Just like he used to do...right?

We let our imaginations get the best of us, this search for our great white knight in shining armor, atop a Pegasus white horse, with beautiful features, a deep and hardy voice, that all reeked of perfection. That might be what we want in our heads but that is never what we really want, half the time we just want to stand-still with someone, to be able to be comfortably normal with someone who understands where we are coming from... to cuddle with someone who will actually caress you until you fall asleep and not just loosely use the term "cuddle."

Things become challenging after a while, we find ourselves blaming the birth control or blaming our menstrual cycle, saying that's what it was that made us "lash out," or "bitch" about everything you did that day. We need affection and we get very sensitive during this time we also find ourselves at a loss when the person(s) we love so dearly are in fact the ones neglecting us the most.

So she finally left her bed and poured herself a glass of milk, retired for an evening piss and came back to her mountain of blankets and her snoring cat. She had concluded, after a day of mass production--of tears, she would let it go. She wouldn't bring up the fact that she hated seeing him once a week, but also that she hated hardly seeing him at all when their schedules finally made sense. She would exhaust herself with distractions and not wait for him to call her, but for him to wait for her.