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| me either... and boston may be coming sooner than even you hoped!
cos i got a little plot twist if my own...
not yet though. first i'm gonna post the 3rd entry. there are 5 entries before boston...
this one is number 3
Entry 3:
Everybody who knew Pacey Witter would have said that the last thing they’d expect was for me to start a diary. That’s why I’m writing one. It’s one more step to being a better, stronger Pacey. If I’m going to lose her to that walking movie review, then I’m going out in style- and I don’t mean one of my famous shirts. I don’t mean getting a new haircut, which I seem to do every new school year. Maybe because I’m never going back to class. I’m not getting my tips frosted, I’m not shaving it all off. And unless you tie me up and demand that I look my age, I’m NEVER getting a beard. Would she still love me with a beard? Heh. Maybe not. Does she still love me now?
God I hope so.
I didn’t mean to do it, you know. I had a whole goodbye speech planned. I was going to go to her house. We’d share one last magical kiss, and then I’d tell her that I was going away, and that this time she couldn’t ask me to stay. A test, if you will. If she asked me to stay after that, I’d probably think less of her for not caring about how I feel. Then it was graduation. For some reason, that morning I got up on board this boat. I sailed far far away, never looking back. I practically sleepwalked my way here, all the time dreaming of the goodbye I never said. Because even I can see she loves me. But as much as she loves him? I don’t know anymore. I used to think that was my possible, and making that girl love me was my one goal in my pathetic little existence with my insignificant family. But recently, I started to realise that there was a reason why we did it on the ski trip. She was SAVING HERSELF FOR HIM. That’s what I tell myself over and over. But she gave me her most precious gift. Then I started doubting that I’d have anything but her love, when it all came down to it. Ironic, isn’t it? The thing which drove her away from him, is the same thing pulling me unwillingly from her. She told me she loved me. And I believe her.
It’s just that you can’t really love somebody with all of your heart until you can love yourself. I don’t love or respect myself. So that’s what I’m doing. And I’m writing everything I feel down , so that the anger I feel right now doesn’t come out. Who am I angry at? Her? Him? ME?
This is my shortest entry yet. Maybe I’ll just have to admit I’m not that interesting.
Not even my Witter charm and endless, dare I say wit, can pull me out of this state of mind. I need to find me a girl. Someone pretty-looking. Fairly stupid. Somebody who doesn’t give me butterflies every time I think of her.
Someone whose name I can forget. |
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| Entry 4:
Well, I’m doing pretty good. I’m docked in a small fishing town in the Virgin Islands. Great. Another reminder. It seems that Little Miss Rich Girl really does like me. I’m not complaining- I’m no stranger to casual sex, but I’m not sure whether it’s just that. This girl actually bought me a boat. Yesterday in joking girlish undertones, she suggested I name the boat True Love. I named it Unrequited Love. She said she’d have it shipped to wherever I want. I WANT it shipped to Boston, but I’m not telling her that.
There are some finer points to this tiny island I guess. An airport. Maybe considering the way I’m feeling now, that isn’t too good. Knowing that at any minute I could go there, and take a plane to Boston, really doesn’t help the whole ‘living on your own terms thing’. I’m finding it incredibly hard to hate him. There, I said it. But look at me, I’ve been a living zombie for the past few weeks. I haven’t been living on my own terms. He probably left for his summer course weeks ago. The night before he was due to leave, I called him. I started to call her, and ended up dialling his number. I wasn’t ready to talk about it before, but now I am. I can remember it like it was yesterday. He answered the phone. I didn’t say hi. I really didn’t think any of it through. I asked him, I said “I hope it’s not too late” Heh. The words came out, and I realised what I meant. I don’t know if he did at the time, but he said “no, it’s fine” Hah. Whatever man, I felt like saying. Then he asked how I was. How are you? Well, considering I’m still running from you beautiful soulmate and the love I feel for her, I’m actually feeling like crap. I didn’t say that. I told him it was hard work, but it kept my mind of stuff. Well. Not true, but he didn’t know. And I was working hard, It wasn’t a total lie. His reply? “Hmm.” 15 points to Dawson Leery for the thoughtful, informative answer. And then we started to talk about her. [i:08a69cdca8]She's, um... you know, she's doing the same thing you are, Pace. She's keepin' busy. She doesn't say much, but, um... you know, I get the feeling that she thinks about you every 10 seconds or so. I know she'd appreciate a call. [/i:08a69cdca8] Hearing him say that warmed my heart a little.
I never thought I’d admit to this, but around that time I started to remember just why Dawson and I were friends. I remembered our good times. I remembered that I had after all, stolen his soulmate. When I hung up the phone, one thing came pack to me. [i:08a69cdca8] I’m proud of you Pacey [/i:08a69cdca8]
I think that’s what is helping me get through this. The thought that when I get through this maybe Dawson and I can stop hating each other. It won’t be easy. Every time I look at him I picture her standing in his room asking him to stay, asking him to spend the summer with her. I know that she loves me. Well, that she loved me. I know that no matter what, she never stopped loving Dawson. She loves him like she loves her family, and spends most of her time trying to define what love she feels. I imagine her kissing him, or even the other way around. I imagine him losing himself in the depths of her warm eyes… I imagine things which hurt just to talk about. At the least I want to be her friend again someday. Even if I have to wait until she’s done her 4 years at Worthington. Anything if it means that I can hold her hand, or hug her tight. She has always been afraid of losing people she loved. At prom she told me to go to hell. She didn’t cry, not then because she was used to it, and already had herself insured against any pain. But I know she felt something, because she tried to make it work and tried to be strong.
Heh. The one problem with a diary. You show them your soul and they don’t give you any answers. All I know is that me and this here diary are having a Pinter moment. I’m rereading my 4 measly entries and I’m realising just what I have to do. I have to go to Boston. As a free man. Get a job. Live on my new boat. Que sera sera and all that.
Que Sera Sera. Sounds about right, wouldn’t you agree? |
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| Loved it!! can't wait to read the next entry...this should be interesting! more please!! :D |
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| Aww PJ...he wants his friend back. I liked the whole phone conversation thing. I hope you make Dawson and Pacey get closer. |
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| Ok guys
im going to spain tomorrow and of course i'll still be writing- i just won't necessarily be posting k?
dont forget about me, cos i'll be back!
see you all in two weeks
pj_sailin xxx |
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