Boy Bewildered

I went to the cinema and saw the Lemony Snicket movie, which is fantastically anachronistic and is generally funny (in parts). And I like Jim Carrey in most things anyway, so thumbs up.

I went with a girl, called... Seph. There's some history between us (a kiss and nothing more) and we're (to me) excellent friends. She asked me out for today and I agreed, and it was perfectly pleasant and well and cool and cozy, until she picked up my hand from her grip and asked: "what's this?" I looked at her, blank as a vampire's looking glass. I had told her I would never cheat just a few minutes previously, and in discussion mentioned that my only unrealistic ambition is to find my ideal woman. And just generally told her the reason Daphney was not who I talked about to her was because I was more secure and boasting is just a sign of my insecurity. And... And... What's UP?! Why can't I hug and hold hands when it's freezing out, and why can't people realise that a hug is just friendship and that I value that physical representation of friendship absolutely. (Note: I understand what she feels, and what I would do if a girl acted like I did. But I also know I adore hugs.)

She said she's just making it hard on herself. Very hard. And I'm sorry for that. I love her, I just don't want her to be a lover. My eyes flared, telling her what I felt so I didn't have to speak it.
And then she walked away, her eyes betraying her hidden hurt, and didn't look back once.

I phoned Daphney on the way home, on a cold lonesome bus. She was busy. I won't talk to her until Sunday or some such nonsense. She's busy; with people she doesn't adore and doing things she's reluctant to tell me. After lying about her blog, she lied about smoking weed until pressed (yuck by the way. There's a part of me that I hate that wants her to sit in a tower until seeing me again every time). More untruthfulness and lies and not caring, and I have to go. I feel like we're in boats and the current's split in the river. She's drifting away, not being open, not calling or missing me. (This is a lie. It's how I feel this moment, and I'm conjuring up examples in my head of how she loves me).

I guess it's that kind of day. Melancholy, and tamely so. Teenage self-pitying and whining. Perfect for the last day of term, then.