dead passengers

maybe this is another start. i want to start writing again. i know i've said that before... well, many times before... but this semester promises to be different. i want to start over almost, even though it's the last few months here. and yet, it's really hard. i still believe what i do. i'm not over danielle at all, although her ostentatious failure to communicate helps solidify the distance between us. doesn't mean i don't think about her all the time. i suppose that story is for another night. i want to believe that i just want her to be happy, even with rob but i don't believe that at all. i suppose all that matters is that she believes it. i should seem like a good person. it's important that i should seem like a good person.

i was driving down I-40 tonight, west. i'll admit i wasn't in the best of places. mentally all wrapped up in some song, some wandering tear afraid to leave my eye (as much as i want to believe i can actually cry...). physically even, a lane over but behind a moving truck. i only noticed it because the roll-up back door had come open, which was odd. dangerous, i realized. their stuff was sitting inches away from the edge of the flat bed and could easily fall out. i imagined for a quick second what would happen if something rolled out and towards my car. none of the quick scenarios ended well for me or the rest of westbound raleigh commuters. i sped up to pass them, thinking only as i did that i should somehow stop beside them, honk, wave, throw my hand out the sunroof and point... just something. before i knew it i was already past and there were cars behind me. i got this sick, heated feeling of being responsible for whatever might happen. visions of those same dumb objects, those personal effects turned weapons, tumbling out the back of the truck. driver none the wiser. cars swerving at 70 miles per hour. pileups. deaths. the intricate details of the end-of-times. this sickness stuck with me for hours. i thought i might die behind the wheel. i was afraid. very afraid.

i spent a long time with julie tonight. she's a sweet kid, easily my favorite from her apartment. whether that's because i'm particularly tired of the other roommates or from her own specific merits isn't up for discussion. she's good to talk to, intelligent... just... and i hate to use this place for any negative personal thoughts towards good people, but if it's a true chronicle of myself, then... well, there's no spark. i'd hate to say this is because i'm not particularly attracted to her. she's blonde (just milquetoast!) (<-- i just wanted to use that word, however true). there's just no spark. i went over this with danielle k. the other day at lunch. there are so few people that i feel that immediate attraction to, and almost never the same ones that would feel the same about me. at least with danielle a., she's so goddamn sweet and understanding that it's hard to tell the difference. worse, actually, as i'm still fallen for her. oh well... point being that it feels sometimes like i don't pay due attention to certainly wonderful normal people because i don't feel that spark. that's fair though... i can't say it's not.

i want to get back into the swing of writing here but no more for tonight. head aches and sleep is important. tomorrow (or today) a better day. always. somedays.