You know this movie, I know this movie, Everybody know's this movie.

I was thinking about it today.

I was thinking about the idea that all of many of our lives, we have been looking for our gods in the heavens and on mountaintops and all of these places way-up-high that we can't reach--when in actuality, they are grounded right here on this earth, deeper than one has yet sought.

My point?

My point is that I am forgetting what I oft try to remind myself when I leave San Francisco--that I am missing things that are right fucking here.

Wednesday I was supposed to hang out with Sarah, but instead I holed myself up in my apartment eating pizza and crying over some boy who would indeed contact me if he saw so fit. Do I want to refer to Shaun this way? Not particularly, but fuck. Poor Sarah. Poor Mindy and Erica and even the fucking downstairs neighbor who all can't quite figure out why I don't leave my house a lot lately. Mostly, it stems down to poor fucking pitiful stupid and hanging-on-to-the-last-threads-of-memory me that is the one bearing all the grunt of this. Me who can't go through an entire Monday withought crying over movie night and still can't bear to go back to our favorite Sushi place, Ryoko's.

If he wanted to see me, he'd find a way to call me. He'd find me. He'd stop by Mary's or my work, wherever he is. Call me callous when I say this but I have to believe this now; I'm sick of crying.

If he wanted to, he'd do everything we have been doing.

And so the tally reaches four--four best friends gone in less than a year.

Damn, that might be a new record for me.

November fourth isn't that far away. Anyone else want to leave? Try me, just fucking try me--because the one thing I can guarantee you is that I wont fight for you like I did for Shaun. Don't believe me?

Ask the other three.

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