I just called Cody and he was in fact at home. I didn't think he was, because I'd left a message on his cell phone early yesterday for him to call me. But he was home, and was very rude to me. Told me he was busy, wouldn't call me back tonight, probably wouldn't tomorrow.

I can feel the disappointment already. I can feel the hopes crashing down. I already feel as if my heart has dropped to my stomach and the black abyss of a wound has started to re-open.

It's stupid, really. He just couldn't (and didn't want to) talk to me on the phone, and he said he was "alright", so I assume he did badly at Nationals (or worse than he thought, at least). It doesn't matter to me what place he comes in because I'm proud of him no matter what. But I know (at least 50/50) that obviously he's discouraged about the weekend and doesn't want to talk to me about it right now.

I've spent the last five days waiting, waiting. Missing him like crazy. Thinking of nice things to do for him, thinking of when I'm going to make our dinner reservation for his birthday, thinking of what it will be like to see him again. Thinking of the weeks ahead. Dreaming about it, worrying about it, stressing about it. No crying yet, but in a few minutes I wouldn't be surprised if that changed.

Funny though, that when we said goodbye, we both waited on the line until the other hung up, like we used to. I can't remember the last time he did that. There was this strange suspended silence; dead air, no talk, for a good 3 seconds, before I hung up the phone. I wonder what he was thinking about then. I was thinking, please talk to me. Please hear my voice and know what I'm feeling. Please know I miss you and I love you.

I knew I should have waited for him to call me, but I couldn't take the torture anymore, it hurt too much. In the last week I've started 3 different letters to him and about 5 ICQ messages, but each time, I have closed the page (or box). I've said, Krista, no. Don't do this. You know it's stupid. You've shown him enough times already that you love him. Don't take over doormat status once again.

It's so hard to want to say something to someone so, so badly, and not have any sort of communication with them. It's even harder to be able to write down everything you want to say, and still not have said everything, and then to hand that person the confessions of your heart, and they hardly bat an eyelash at it. It's a horrible feeling to see the tattered paper of your open, wounded heart flutter to the ground nonchalently while that person tosses the letter away.

"I know all of this. You just keep telling me the same things."


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