Once upon a time, there was a little girl M, when she was 18 she went to university and some years later she fell in love. And with the realisation of her affection came the realisation that the feelings would never be returned, thus she learned how to or at least tried to be just a friend.
Alas my account is not a simple fairytale, there was also the other boy of whom some thought he liked her beyond liking, which she scarcely believed though she would not have minded, days went past and she grew to like him more then a friend, less then a lover, only to realise once again too late that the feeling was by no means mutual.
There you go; it's over. Not what I feel. Not the doubt about what I feel but the doubt over what he might feel for me. Whereas I usually realise it's not going to be anything within seconds of realising I'm in love, I've realised he might have been the one some three hours after learning he wasn't and thus probably never will be interested in me.
The 2006-2007 season promises to be a good one for cultivating grief and I could not be more happy for it, I've missed the Weltschmerzen in my life these past few months in which I was silly enough to hope.
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