one classy broad
What Becomes Of The Brokenhearted...
Turns out the new youth pastor of the church my parent's friend runs is an old crush of mine. One of the ones who actually "broke" my heart. Bah. I hate looking at him. I hate thinking of him. I hate that when my parents met him that my mom suggested my dad hook us up. Mostly I hate how much I still hurt when I think of how he rejected me. I fell for the most overused excuse in all Christiandom. He looked me in the eye(!) and told me he didn't feel that God wanted him to date "for now." A week later, we're at a mutual friend's wedding, only he's dating someone. Why the hell didn't he just say no? I spent a week eating Ben and Jerry's and listening to John Mayer obsessively. I feel like I just got rejected again...and instead of eating myself to death, I spent more money than I should have...on more music. Guh.

I think I may have fractured my right wrist. I just took one of my dad's perscription motrins the size of my fist and it still hurts like thunder.

Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue...