Telephone.

I'm frustrated. I firmly believe in the half-of-the-time-you-went-out to get over someone. I'm almost there, give me another 4 weeks and I'll be totally over it. I'm just pissed right now. More at myself than anyone else.
I want him to call me. Not because it gives me butterflies, but because I love him to death (platonically) and I want to hear his voice. He makes me laugh.
I called him last night and he left to go play videogames (you really think men have their heads on right? I doubt it.) Boo. I'm losing it.
I refuse to call.
I refuse to call.
I refuse to call.

Think. What would Carrie Bradshaw do? ...she would sit here pondering her options.

FUCK! I hate men. My room looks like insane. I need to clean. I need to brush my teeth...

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I refuse to call.
I refuse to call.
I'm so calling. Someone stone me.