This is rather alarming. Simply because I tend to moralise on the issue that is making me guilty, and if I fail to convince myself, I usually abandon the object of pain. So if I convince myself that this place might not be worth keeping, it might just die a slow death.

Hmmm. *racks brain for something substantial to say*

Well, I told the BF, (yes, sometimes I still refer to him my his previous status, because one cannot just abandon someone so important in just a few short weeks), that right at this moment, I am at peace. I am one of those weak-willed individuals with a marked dependency on companionship. Right now, I am more enamoured of the idea of someone who can cuddle me in person, than a wonderful man who is too far away to be of physical comfort.

Somehow, I feel that I am doing the right thing. I feel better, and I do not have the heavy weight of guilt choking me when I flirt (or what passes for flirting in my head) with some of my male friends.

But logically, I am thinking that I am the worst sort of fool for choosing fleeting pleasure over the security of the BF.

And logic is what love is. Love is in the head. When one falls in love, one chooses to love. You may get struck by sheer lust like a bolt of lightning, but love is a choice you make. You choose to capture the other, you choose to keep their interest, you choose to cherish and adore ...

Of course, it could just be that "I think I feel better now", and "I feel I should have thought this over more carefully". Now that is a dilemma.

Am I making sense here?

As a note of interest, I have felt happier these last couple of days than I have felt for quite a bit. (When you are young and still spritely, a month or two is a long time.) And on Friday morning, I sat down and the thought blazed like a comet in my head, that I was actually very happy on Thursday. I have not felt so alive and charming for absolutely ages.

It was Mage's birthday and I was blazingly animated at his birthday dinner. Although I thought later that I might have stepped on a few toes with the annoying flirty and girlish manner I was behaving in. At least I think I was annoyingly flirtatious. I don't know. And frankly my dears, right at this moment, I don't give a damn.

But it could just be a maniac phase. I have been spending too rapidly this week. I need very little sleep and my room is falling into disarray, yet I can find everything I need. I talk very fast, my thoughts flit from one place to another even more than "normal" and certainly more than when I am depressed. I cannot sit still for a moment. I need to be doing something. You can hear the chirpiness and annoying cuteness seeping out from my normal placid and cowlike facade. I have flashfire tantrums, and the list goes on ...

And just to sound all prissy and stuck up, nah... the title is this line from Donne's The Canonisation. It was echoing through my head today while I was waiting for the bus, and descibes my current state perfectly. It sounds like something the BF might say.