September 1st, 1989
I was really hoping not to be at home on what has turned out to be an utterly miserable Friday night.
According to mum, David’s flight was due to arrive from LA this afternoon. It’s now almost midnight and I haven’t heard a peep from him.
With my imagination free to roam wildly, I’ve imagined all kinds of scenarios and reasons why David hasn’t called. Maybe he missed the flight (but if he did, surely he would ring and let me know?) Could be that he’s had a change of heart and doesn’t want to see me or stay in touch anymore (I really hope that’s not it.) Mum might have mixed up the day David told her he’d be arriving (she was quite adamant that he told her Friday.) I hate the not knowing. It really is the worst.
Went out on my bike this morning in the hopes of miraculously losing a stone in weight in preparation for what I was hoping would be a great weekend seeing David. I got about twenty minutes from the house and turned back because I was bored.
I used to love cycling over to Ben’s house. When it was time for me to leave (usually late at night) he’d walk me home and push my bike all the way. We’d stop to kiss more than a few times and I know that was a long time ago, but I really miss those days.
Everything between Ben and I felt sweet and innocent back then. It doesn’t feel like that anymore. It feels like a lot of damage has been done, with so many words spoken that we can’t take back. Not to mention both our actions.