Today was eventful but not in the progress kind of way, unless progress has a kind of twisted spiral shape.

I spent the greater portion of my lectures staring at the back of someone's neck while the lecturers made background noise.

I couldn't help it, Smart Guy sat right in front of me, inches away in a space I had been draping my leg over before he sat down.

Ninety percent positive he is completely unaware of my existance and so shall it stay, as long as I don't do anything crazy like leaning forward and kissing the back of his neck.

I had urges. He has these three adorable dots on the back of his neck. Flare of jealousy when I saw him speaking to a girl. He kept nearly falling asleep, I watched his body lean as he slipped away, watched him slip a little too far, and jerk back.

I can't explain why but it was the most adorable thing. Everytime he moved I had to move. Chemicals are a weird weird thing. I also had urge to start writing notes to him, ask him if he was tired because of the assignment, because I was, and it would support the theory that he is bizarro me.

If I ever manage to look him in the eye and open my mouth that would be the thing I'd ask. Are you bizarro me? You seem to be the smarter, saner, cuter version of me ... if I was, y'know, a guy.

Would you find it weird someone you didn't even notice was alive saying that to you?

So I just watch on.

Watched much today. Saw Xmen2 and Matrix Reloaded ... it was a day of sequels.

They were good but Matrix made my head explode in the frustrated way, only because it ends with the words (nothing big but look away now if you really don't want to know) to be concluded. And I hated that, because everything in my life has those words stamped on it at the moment and I have officially surpassed my threshold of being able to take it.

Much in the manner of me definitely not being able to stand any more guys who threaten/contemplate/or even implicitly think that suicide is a reasonable idea because this girl doesn't love them anymore, that girl couldn't love them, no girl will ever love them and so their middle class lives are too painful to go on.

If I hear of even one more, I am likely to start trying to talk them into suicide.

Death, we've never been formally introduced but I know him from around. Another of my mother's cousins died and I wonder how I am meant to keep things, (her life, my life, our lives) together.

A package in the mail from the family of the first dead cousin, my mother can't read anymore so she wanted me to read at some point and give her a comprehensive gist.

Readings from his funeral, biblical and otherwise. I skipped the biblical, obviously. There was a reading that each of his daughters had written and I assume spoken.

They wrote such words of love that even though they don't mention their pain, I could feel it running through me. Crying again, because I'm just a girl and I'm overemotional, and I wonder what I will say at my mother's funeral after the long, long struggle, and at my father's, when he just drops dead.

It's not as morbid as it sounds. I've been thinking about these kind of things since I was six. Ever since I noticed that my parents were older than everyone else's. It's why I hate that woman who gave birth at sixty or some such ridiculous age. I think she acted so selfishly...

Kind of like I'm acting now I suppose.

Another meeting with the counsellor on wednesday. Good I suppose. I don't see how anything is going to help.

I think at this point a clown needs to run through my entry, just because it's so lacking in humour. Although clowns are kind of scary. A naked clown? No, that's worse.

Between the over flow of emotions, stress attacks and naked clowns, something tells me I won't be sleeping so well tonight.

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