Mood: Tired/Sleepy Nihilism: God is a number you cannot count to. I didn't sleep well last night, or hardly at all for that matter. I don't remember my dreams. I had more pressing matters on my mind each time I woke up. I would think about those things instead of my dreams and therefore little was committed to memory. No dream entry today. I'm sorry, Lindsay, I know how much you look forward to reading them. I'm just so sorry. Before I get into the main context of this entry - and reasons why I had such a restless night, I just want to say that Melissa's brother is coming home - he's here until Thursday. And that's a good thing. God only knows when she'll get to see him again. Melissa, I'm happy for you. Go spend time with your brother and have a good few days. Oh, and I hope that his car starts this time. On to other things ... To those who didn't read my last entry - don't even bother reading this one. Just go away. Go away, you shouldn't be here. Lindsay ... Melissa ... I did a stupid thing. I'm a stupid guy. I 'm very, very stupid. I'll tell you why ... I sign off at 4 AM. (Why? Quality Lindsay time, of course.) I take off my headphones, turn off the computer, and literally fall out of my chair and into bed. Lights are off, I'm crawling under the covers and I lie down when I think I hear a tapping coming from somewhere - it sounds like mice. I like mice. I don't mind them at all. And I try to go to sleep, but I hear it again - and it's doesn't sound like mice, it's someone tapping on my window. Of course I look, I see a figure there - I freeze, I'm scared, like I'd seen a ghost - but I get up and look a little closer - and it's Paul. I probably should have called the poilice, but I didn't. I'm talked to him. I open the window, and the conversation went somewhat as follows: Paul: "Don't you ever go to sleep?" Me: "Yes. How long have you been out there?" Paul: "Couple hours." Me: "Stalking is a felony in all 50 states." Paul: "Your brother doesn't let me forget that." Me: "Two hours? Why didn't you do something sooner?" Paul: "You were crying. I didn't want to bother you. And headphones." Me: "Oh. What are you doing here?" Paul: "I need to talk to you. Can I talk to you?" (I'm stupid.) Me: "Yeah. Okay. Just let me get my shoes." Paul: "Don't forget your jacket. It's a little chilly out here." See? I'm a fucking marionette - I'm helpless whitout someone there telling me what to do and pulling my strings. I did sneak out of the apartment. I'm the kind of guy who believes in second chances ... three or four of them. If the person seems sincere enough - like they really mean it. I'm sorry, Lindsay. I really am sorry - but this guy means a lot to me. And if I'm all he has - and I take all that away from him because of his mistake, what then? Will he change for the better or will he kill himself? I can't stand the thought of him doing that - and it would weigh on my conscious, no matter what you tell me. So I give him a second chance. We hung out by my car - because I told him I wasn't going anywhere alone with him. He said he understood me completely. He apologized. He fucking apologized ... Fucking broke down into tears and apologized to me. He said he did a stupid thing, made a stupid mistake; he said he didn't know what he was thinking at the time, but he was sure that if he knew that he would be losing his best friend and all he had in the world, then he wouldn't have done what he'd done. You can't fake tears like that. I let him cry. He even begged for me to hold him - and I did. For a long time. I think I fell asleep because the next thing I know the sky is pink, and it's dawn. I tell him I need to go to bed. He asked if he could talk to me again sometime this week. I said okay. I snuck back into the apartment. I took off my shoes. I'm about to take off my jacket when I hear David come out of his room and ask "Where have you been?" He hates Paul. So I lied. I told him I went out to watch the sunrise. He told me I was sick and I didn't need to be doing things like that - and told me to go to bed. Fucking ordered me to take an Ambien. At least he doesn't know that Paul was there. I don't know what I've done. I hope I'm doing a good thing ... I hope I am. I could have just fucked up big time. But I believe in second chances ...