I know about his journal.



What bothers me the most is the way he and his friends demonize me. If I was such a bad person then someone as nice as Elliot wouldn't have been interested in me in the first place anyhow, would he? The day we met was the 173rd day of the year. I knew it was going to be an important day. 173 is a prime number--and the sum of three consecutive prime numbers. I don't think it gets any more special than that.

I'm also not naive enough to believe in the idea of lifelong monogamy.

Anyone would have noticed that boy, standing there looking dazed at that gorgeous painting. I watched him for a while before speaking, trying to figure out how to start a conversation. When he turned back to look at me, I knew the ice was broken. I started asking him questions to keep him talking, not that it was any sort of challenge at that point. You'd think he'd been waiting his whole life to have that conversation.

What followed was the corniest first date you could imagine, but it was really a good time. I could tell he was really drawn to me, I got a kick out of that. It wasn't the first time I'd gotten attention like that, not by far, maybe I just wanted something to keep me entertained while I was visiting my grandparents. It was nice to be the center of someone's universe like that, and when I left for school I missed him. We kept in touch over email and the occasional hours-long phone call, and one night I blurted out that he could come to visit if he wanted. It's not as though he really had any other choice; by that time he didn't know what to do without me. Honestly, I didn't know what to do without him, either. For a while, it really was love.



Not anymore. Not for a while. But I still don't want him to leave.



The problem with me, I guess, is that I'm a bit flighty. It has something to do with that old phrase, "No matter how good you are, there's always someone better." It's true, you know. But if it's true about me, it's also true about everyone else. And everything else. Technology is obsolete before it hits the retailer's shelves. The new hot band is only going to be hot for so long. This season's fashion is old again before the weather changes. You see what I'm saying? What's a fad today is embarrassing tomorrow. It makes me anxious; I'm always looking for the next Truth. For a while, that Truth had something to do with Elliot. One problem is that I know there's someone better. Another problem is that sometimes the Lie is so attractive.

Enter David Black. Technically he's been around for much longer than my Happy Child, but he plays this darker role. I need him like a blow of junk. Every few months I'll clean up, go through all the dopesick withdrawal, and manage to be in control for a while--but just like an addict, it doesn't last. I don't know how he does it, no one else manipulates me like he can. I'm spiraling back into it now. I always fuck around when I'm feeling the itch for David. I'll go for anyone, honestly, trying to find another human drug that will hit the spot like he does. This last time Travis managed to track me down before I did anything too ridiculous--at least as far as I can remember. God only knows what happened after he got me into the car. Whatever it was, I'm sure it's better than it would have been if David had picked me up.