I saw someone very beautiful today. (Actually I saw several rather beautiful people, including a divine pixie girl at the theatre and a stunning guy with dreadlocks at Charing Cross. People are wonderful, when they're wonderful.)
You know I wrote that post about memory, and how everything that has ever happened happened to me yesterday? Well, yesterday I thought this beautiful person might kind of like me. Yesterday I went for ice cream and drinks with them and it was truly lovely; yesterday I was too shy to try to follow it up. Yesterday I gave up anyway because I'm not interesting enough or pretty enough and I didn't understand some things about them. Yesterday I started to understand all the things. Yesterday I saw them again for the first time in ages, and the last time in ages.
Today I hate myself for not being who I was yesterday. Yesterday I wasn't afraid. Shy, yes, but not afraid. Yesterday I thought there was something worth wanting, even if not worth liking. Today I think there's something worth liking but that that's irrelevant because there's nothing worth wanting. Yesterday I said yes when I didn't mean it just to make people happy, and today I say no when I don't mean it just to keep myself safe. Yesterday I wanted not to be safe. Why can't I go back? Why?