And then Robin came back. I love her... I love her to death. I want her to be happy. I want her to be safe. I want her to be secure. I want her to be wanted. And I have gone and royally screwed that all up.

 

All she wanted was for me to be her one and only. And I choked. I couldn't do it. I don't know what's so damn wrong with me. I don't know what I'm doing, folks.

 

I actually had the gall to tell her that I just "wanted to be friends." But the dark truth is, everybody who reads this: I do. I want to be the best friend she ever had. But I don't know that she can make me happy. I don't know if this depression of mine can be cured. Because sooner or later, it would take me over again. And I won't have her blamed for not making me happy.

 

To some extent, I'm rationalizing that. It may not even be the real reason that I told her that I didn't want to be with her. I'm afraid, as well as unhappy. It's all a big melange, really. All the bad emotions, you know? I am not a well person. Maybe my friend Kendra is right. Maybe I need professional help to get me anywhere. Perhaps I'll go to Gilchrist Hall tomorrow and look into that.

 

I'm probably damned to the bowels of Hell for shattering such a sweet girl's heart. The only girl I ever knew who was pure and virtuous and true, and I did that. I deserve the fate I get, by God.

 

Until next time, my public (who probably wants to stab my eyes out, with good reason; definitely not "adoring" anymore)... if there is a next time.