My mind is everywhere and nowhere on this Sunday evening.

I've been thinking.

And I don't think the issue was that I couldn't get over him. I think it was that I didn't want to. Because letting go of him meant letting go of a three year friendship that I treasured. I held out hope that our friends were right and that our story would unravel like the novels that I read. Life isn't a novel though, is it? And people are no easily manipulated as the characters that live amongst the pages and between the lines.

What a horribly depressing notion.

I think I'm going to die my hair red before the New Year.