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I think I eat too many Power Bars. I don't know what else to eat, though.
I eat slices of processed chicken to make my eating balanced. I think I might not
be so lonely if I had made myself a swordfish for dinner. But who wants to sit
down to dinner alone? I read Web Week while I eat Power Bars. Swordfish is too
expensive to eat while reading Web Week. The first couple of nights I was so excited to be alone. I slept with my legs splayed across the whole bed and I used both pillows to cradle my head. Now I can't stay asleep. I wake up looking for Tano. Looking for a warm place to nestle my nose. Before I read the letter he sent, I shower and put on clean underwear. I light a candle even thought it's not dark. The letter is perfect; not sappy, but intimate, without trying too hard. I read it for hours. I cry. I think because I love him, but maybe because I'm lonely. I want to love him because he's funny and quirky and kind to me. Not because I'm lonely. So many people spend Sunday night by themselves. Most of my friends do. And I say things like, "It's so hard to be alone, but you really get to know yourself." I don't want to know myself tonight. I want to pretend I'm not here. Feed myself Power Bars to keep myself quiet, and tune back in when Tano comes home. I check the messages and there's one from Tano, concerned because I left seven in one day. I feel myself blush when I hear him say, "I sure hope everything's OK." I can't tell if he's OK. I don't want to miss him this much if he's not missing me. So I go to Borders. The one in West Hollywood is closest, but I go to the Borders in Westwood I'm tired of searching for a place to park. Even when the search is over, you never know if there will be a better spot if you circle the block once more. At this point I just want a parking structure. I used to think reserved parking was for pretentious rich people. Now I see it as a sign of stability.
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