Junelle and I spent a few moments this morning e-mailing about how the best thing to do in a breakup like this is to avoid the other person. And my better judgment (or what's disguised as my better judgment but is really just nail biting determination) says I'll have an easier time of things by sticking to my commitment not to talk for a month. But, man, I don't feel that way inside. I feel inside like I'm riding a wave: I'm up on the crest, then down in the valley, up on the crest, down in the valley.

I don't understand why I'm so preoccupied with this. I mean, I feel like I should be a little past the obsession of wondering where he is right now. And I don't enjoy speculating about how many people he's slept with, how many he's kissed, or how many, out of those, he's felt some visceral attraction to akin to what he felt for me.

I've meditated. I've been doing pilates. I've gone to NY and come back. I've been planning my summer away. But none of it distracts me the way I need to be distracted. I suppose meeting someone new would be do the trick. But I've met a Brit who's sent me a valentine and it's done zilch. And meeting someone else isn't going to happen at 5:16pm on a Tuesday evening. It's not going to happen in Physics class. It's not likely to happen on the BART ride back home. And it's not going to happen in my sleep. Until then, I need to find some way to focus on other things.

I keep telling myself that I'm just working through whatever the fuck it is that I need to work through in order to wipe the relationship slate clean for the next person. But that's not something I believe, not in my heart. In my heart, I keep thinking he's going to come around to his senses. Of course, I'd be reticent to get back together. But that's not the important thing here. What's important is that he should want to be with me; he should want to get back together with me. That alone, in my deluded state, would make me happier. I know that's not true, but it feels true right now.