And so, it must be kryptonite.

I ran into Mike the other night. I was having dinner with Steph before going to see Underworld. And it's just so bizarre, because I was thinking about him, and how silly my infatuation was, how embarrassing it is to look back on it, that I thought I loved him without even really knowing him. I knew he was living in London, going to college--quite a surprise, but a welcome one--then out of nowhere he's standing right in front of me. And the effect was immediate, as it's always been with him: absolute sickness. Not apolling sickness, but pains-in-my-stomach, I-want-to-throw-up, need-sleep-now kind of sickness. It's as if something or someone, maybe even me, is trying to keep me away from him.

But it makes no sense! I have no attachment to him, no involvement in his life, and save for hearing occasional mentions form Steph or Cynthia about what he's up to, no contact at all. And moreover, no reason or desire for contact--though, it should be said, no desire not to have contact. Indifference, I think, is what I'm trying to say, but not in a cold sense in the word.

So why then does the sickness still come when I see him? I don't desire him more than any other attractive--devastatingly attractive would perhaps be more appropriate--guy I see, and even if I did, he's not available. Surely enough time has passed for the infatuation to wear thin. And yet his powers over me remain. It disturbs me.

What's worse is seeing him seems to yet again have set off a hellish rollercoaster ride of loneliness. I'm seeing couples everywhere holding hands and having fun. Even last night a very cute looking gay couple were walking down Western Rd with their arms around each other. My dreams--the fact that I'm actually remembering dreams being unusual in itself--are filled with common characters in unusual circumstances that seem to rub in my face the pathetic display that is my romantic past. I've gone so far as to fill out an internet personal in an attempt to counteract recent happenings; how sad is that?

The sickness I can't explain, but this time I might have a reason for all the stuff that comes after.

Come close, kittens, I have a secret. Despite the ethics, and responsibility, and general good nature, I'm not a big peson. Or at least not when it comes to this.

Truth be told, I'm mad, and worried. Because I could deal with my failure with Mike, because he wasn't warm, or going anywhere, or anything special. That's what people told me, and at times I thought so myself.

But here's the kicker: none of that can be said anymore. He's clearly warm, driven, and special--he's stolen my dreams and is living them better than me. And I'm happy for him, really, but I hate him too, because it feels like I've been left behind.

It's crazy, I know, insane really, that this person whom I've probably spent less than 24 hours with can affect me so greatly.

And I don't understand any of it.