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Friday, Mar. 07, 2008
12:30 p.m.
<< [
Something Personal ] >>

Like Florence Nightingale, bent over beds of men falling in love with me.

Wait, what?

I'm patching together relationships in the night, people that probably won't work in the long run but need eachother now and I'm a short term girl, really. I just got a text from this boy, the opposite of my position in this fucked up love rhombus thing we have going. He asked, "If I hadn't fallen in love and you hadn't fallen in love, would we have happened?"

"You mean us as friends?" I asked, confused.

"No, us as more."

"I don't know. No one can say for sure."

I asked him what sparked the thought and he has yet to respond.

My father walked into my room last night, in a bath robe, holding his whiskey-and-whatever-on-the-rocks. "I told a woman I work with about where you work, and mentioned she should go watch a lesson or two some time. She has a daughter. She told me today that when she went down, she saw a woman that reminded her of me, and that that woman spent a whole lesson trying to coax a crying boy into the water, and that she had been very impressed by how it was handled."

Last Saturday when my second autistic student didn't show up, I spent the class working with a boy that wouldn't talk to his regular teacher. I didn't get him into the water, but I tried.

Can I ask you something personal?

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