Pity: party of one.

I’m exhausted. I didn’t get as much done as I’d planned tonight (ended up taking the boys to the dog park with Andrew, which was kind of more important). I developed a headache around supper time. And I am sitting here wanting attention. Someone to talk to me. Someone to be nice to me. Someone to care about my day and kiss my forehead and make me smile before I go to bed.

You know, the stuff I do.

However, not even the pets are down here right now…

It was strange during the Film Fest. I loved being there, I loved seeing the movies, but the people bothered me almost constantly. I don’t love crowds at the best of times, and the company wasn’t always ideal, but it was just… everyone. From whining yuppies at the Manulife Centre to even Andrew on several occasions. (The irony being that it was great having him around for most of the weekend.) And yet, when I went home, by cab, on Friday and Saturday nights, and back to Waterloo on Sunday, I felt intensely lonely. I’d like to just chalk it all up to PMS, but I know myself better than that. I’m not experiencing much in the way of direct “symptoms” from the break-up anymore. But there secondary things, related to being alone, that on nights like this, when my veneer is set aside, I do not enjoy in the least, and that vex me rather acutely because I am powerless to do anything about it.

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