I'm at the library, in the branch in the city so that I can enjoy the clean smell of oxygen - not dirtiness and urine. See, I'm letting go of my elitist ways. So, at said library, I think there is a mildly attractive older married man sitting diagonal from me, but I cannot tell because, a) he is wearing a hat and b ) I have only made side glances at him.
After a few months of soul searching, I learned that I like to live in fantasy land and everyone is allowed to join. If a person's image, behavior, or words distorts this fantasy, I eject rays of hate at him/her. Natalie Fantasy must persist, hence my refusals to engage in conversation with green pants guy or developing a romantic and intimate relationship with a male partner. Every fantasy I have, living alone, living with roommates, getting a dog, being a psychologist, moving to California has been speckled with horrors of reality. I'm so over it.
Keep me in fantasy. It feels a whole lot warmer and fuzzy here. Oh, but lonely too.
Wednesday, June 23
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