Friday, September 27, 2002

"you're young and it's your fault"

There is an old man sitting next to me, intently reading something on the internet, sort of looking like an old person on a computer, not entirelly comfortable. He is wearing a faded red shirt, blue shorts, high white socks, sneakers, and a silver watch. He breathes heavy. Two seats away from me. Sitting far too close to the computer screen than can possibly be healthy. Him, not me. I know what distances to keep, regarding all things, computer screens and whatnot, things other than computer screens.

I just biked by Sean's room on a community bike hoping that he would be outside studying and that I could talk to him because that's all I want to do these days. But he was not sitting outside his room as he sometimes is, and I did not feel like it would be appropriate for me to knock on his door, to make this a real visit and not one where I just happened to be biking by his room. A few days ago, I told him I liked him, and he said that he had to think about that, and then the next night proceeded to ignore me, to tell me that I was cockblocking him when I did try and talk to him, and I assumed that that was what he thought about it.

And yeah, I know about distances.

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