A bit of impatience and four cups of tea have joined forces to kill me, but only a little. When you send someone an email that you want an immediate response to, but for some reason you know that he never checks his email on Wednesdays until about six, the fact that he doesn't own a telephone becomes slightly less charming. And yet, just look at my face. Can't you see the hopeful in my eyes? Oh, it will be fantastic, or close enough.

"If anybody smiles at me ever again, I'm going to freak out." I stayed up all night watching that movie, but thanks to the tea I'm not sleepy anymore. Was it such a perfect movie, or is it just that I was so sleepy and helpless then, and that I've been so preoccupied with hearts? My ventricles get better each time. I want to dream about him, and I can't. I think the part of me that decides the dreams realized how interested I was in the dreams I'd had of him so far, and decided to place him out of reach for now, away on the back shelf. Not to be mean, but as a conservation method, so that when I really need him I won't find I've run out. But, see, it's so quiet here. It's confusing when you don't know the rules.