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my last account I journal-ed (made up verb, ftw?) like a fiend.
I haven't written s**t since, so you know its bad that I'm picking up the habit now. Ugh, ******** me and my unconventional outlet, yes?

Dear Bright Eyes,
How the hell do you make me so nervous? Why am I always checking my words, my steps, my presence in front of you? Something that was once so free, so natural now feels contrived and filled with doubt. Things don't even need to go back to the way they were before, they just have to be amicable. Your heart need not be with me, but if you wish to advance in friendship at least apply your mind! The worst part is that nobody has ever made me this nervous. Not one soul has made me feel so desperate to repair something that is slipping towards the point of no return. Ironically, when talking to you it is as if you are oblivious to the nature of this waning relationship. Am I truly just insecure in the face of what I once thought was near -- if not exactly so -- perfection? Really, I have not a care in the world for your heart or love for if its won its only in bonus. To be your friend would be satisfactory, to feel half as valued, even a quarter so, would warm me dearly. I've never been so weak under one's opinion or affections. I hate this desperation and helplessness I feel. I hate how you're the primary reason I've picked up this disgusting habit I assumed I kicked. Do feel free to point, laugh, and label me your little attention whore.

For the moment, reluctantly yours...

Headstrong Devout,
it is truly what you are. Why confront me for something I haven't done? Why assume I would say such filth? You know me very little for someone who tries so hard to win attention from a girl you swear to love (once loved? Please, be the later!). Oh! frustration just builds with me everyday. How you've affected me, you'll never fully understand. I'd be willing to bet you're a big part of the Bright Eyes problem, thank you. I'd never toss you under the bridge like you claimed I did, not even now as i have more regard for the gum on my shoe than for you, yet I'd never aim to make you some laughing stock. If I speak the truth and it makes you thus, do not blame me for I never once dictated your actions or rationalized your behavior. Do not attach me to your fantasies, forgo thinking of me entirely, step aside and let me move forward. I can already see the slight, awkward changed our brief acquaintance has left me with and I despise it. I was never grand at trusting before you came along, now I shut off so instantaneously, even with those I've known before you, its almost frightening. You frighten me. The scariest part is you've no idea just exactly what it is you have done. I'm positive you do not understand how disturbing and unnerving the actions you have taken, though I'm sure you thought them to be slight, were to me or else you'd back off for a long time, stop talking to my friends, stop talking to me, and let me recover without nerves that you'll do something we'll both regret even more.

Nevermore yours...

Rochester,
yeah, you remind me of one of my favorite literary characters if not only for your imperfection spawning an endearing quality but for the obvious distress any relationship (in any form) of ours will undergo due to our disparities and the innermost workings of "fate." So, I guess this is your codename. Its also fitting since I both fear and love you (amicably, you know my awkward position on love though I'm sure you don't understand it). You seem to be the only positive factor worth mentioning. How I fear that'll scare you away. Don't get me wrong, there are plenty of other guiding lights! Friends, family, small enjoyments and entertainments... but none shine like you have. The foolish -- yet brilliant? -- conversations we have make me forget any notion brought on by Bright Eyes or fear from the devout, the two who currently have an unnatural pull at me right now. I get nervous everytime you speak, but it warms me at the same time. Could we be more opposite yet alike at the same time? The funny thing is, I don't know how I feel about you. We joke about sexual tension, its there (oh god, how its there, even now I can't help but to let my mind wander...?). We joke about hating each other, we obviously don't, but I don't know what is to be read between the lines there. What word should sit there instead of hate? I do not know, and I do not want to know at present. Right now, in this moment, I can honestly not attach a title to you and I find that appealing. You're not a friend, a lover, an enemy, you're just Rochester. Its incredibly refreshing. Thank you. I fear one day you'll tire of me, like I fear Bright eyes has, but I push it from my mind all the same. For now you are a breath of fresh air, an amusement, and an equal. Whatever girl gets to play the Eyre to your Rochester should be a lucky one, so long as she never finds out about how I am Bertha Mason. Kidding, of course!

sincerely/fondly yours...

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