Twenty Four Hours.

Does posting a blog almost every day make me a sort-of, unofficial member of NaBloPoMo?

Whatever.

I've been lying to myself for the past... twenty four hours, almost exactly. I keep telling myself that I don't care that I haven't talked to my best friend. I keep telling myself I'm not bothered by this. But I am. I feel like a giant part of me has been cut away. I woke up dreading today. I didn't know what I would do. A shared bus stop; how to prevent awkwardness?
By hiding around the corner, of course, and walking right by her as if she didn't exist.
I know I chose this, and I'm not un-choosing it. I'm not saying I have any regrets, because I don't. I just... that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt.
During a fight, twenty four hours is the longest we have gone without talking. On average, it's about.... six or seven hours?
All the same. She broke a promise to me not once, not twice, but three times, and the last time was just the cigarette that broke the "Camel"'s back. (Ciggie pun, haw haw haw.) She lied to me two years ago and almost killed a friendship with someone - a friendship that was damned anyway, but the fact is she did something stupid and lied to me about it.
She is a hypocrite.
She can say whatever she wants to me and get away with it, but if I say something similar to her, all hell breaks loose.

The fights usually get resolved in the same manner. An emotional phone call, followed by a pity party on her end, usually involving the phrase, "I'm a liar, I'm a cheater, I'm a bitch." Constant poor-pitiful-me, which really doesn't help anything. It just makes everyone involved feel worse.

All the same.

She hasn't called yet.
And I'm not calling.

~J*~