It’s 1am and I am a mess of swirling thoughts – wondering what did I just do? Did I really just do that? Why? Did the commitment-phobic part of me win? Or was there really something missing – the butterflies, the excitement, the everything there wasn’t – in that he was right, I treated him like a friend, I barricaded him out for some reason. Did I see something? And yet as I emailed E to update him on my life and in general return an email about his blog – I looked at the email I sent him a while back that was at the bottom of his reply, I was gushing about Ryan - he was a liberal, tattooed, drummer guy with the same outlook on life, who had played hockey and made me laugh. Great, just great my own words come back to haunt me. But I started to think about the last few weeks I've talked more to Shawn than I have to the boy, the boy never called or texted the entire time I've been deathly ill - he went MIA when I needed him and yet I was expected to be there when he needed me. Maybe Cheryl is right, just go and see how it is? But why? So it can be harder? I just want to be able to sleep and all I have is no closure and a ticket that I can't seem to cancel and an illness I can't seem to shake. And this voice, the nagging voice of the post 25 year old that says, what you think you can do better?