I AM MANIC-DEPRESSIVE

I think.

Ok, I dont' know, but I'm feeling dizzily happy here for a moment and I don't think I should, nor do I think it will last. Actually, I should be rather pissed as Dining Services is screwing over my club's fundraising dinner by not letting us provide our own food. They are gutless, money-grubbing bastards they are. Anyway, I think I'm doing better, despite ripping my own heart out a second time just to live life. I am making a manifesto here shortly of how I will survive now. Because it's possible. Because I should have learned alot from all the living I've done in this accursed month. It will involve keeping very very busy, lots of physical labor, and perhaps a meaningless relationship or two if I'm lucky. I mused today that I wanted a boy toy. Wouldn't that be nice? Something pretty I could have to snuggle and lead around. It's nice to dream.
Nice.<---insert myriad of dream sequences here.

So what happens next?
FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, NEVER ASK A RECENTLY MADE SINGLE PERSON THAT QUESTION. It is death in a single sentence. It's the absolute most horrifying part of this.
It could be that this was the best relationship I will ever have, and from now on it's nothing but jerks and losers until I drain myself dry of humanity. Could be that I'll go on to have many great and wonderful adventures, discover myself (heh) and even find someone who is perfect for me. Or maybe I'll become an aging spinster with five million cats as my legion of doom. Or maybe a tree will fall on my head tomorrow and I'll die.
Oh Hell.

Whoever gets Dave, you better thank your lucky stars, and you better be good to him. Otherwise your ass is mine.
Love,
-Amber-