Some Wounds Never Heal

Just when I thought I had forgotten her and felt like I was able to move on from that chapter of my life she appeared. I wonder why she came to the library. The girl's got guts, I'll giver her that. When she came in Saturday the look on my face was one of total shock. The look on her face was one of fear (ironically, it's the same one she uses around my mom). Her face seemed to ask,"Is it all right that I'm here?" It also kind of said,"I really don't care if it's all right or not." Well, it is a PUBLIC library and I have no business saying who can enter the doors and who can't, but why on earth would she come at a time when she knew I'd be there? She had two kids on each hand. I guess that was supposed to be her excuse for coming in: to get books for the kids. Her dad keeps me informed (yeah, like I really care) about the goings on of their family and they're having a bunch of company right now.
She came up to me to check out when she could've easily gone to someone else. "Hi," she said.
"Hi. How's school?" I tried not to smile. I tried to be cold and unfriendly. I couldn't do it.
"It's okay. I brought home my roommate from [I can't remember where she's from now, some other country]"
"Yeah, your dad told me you were gonna have a house full."
That was pretty much the extent of our conversation. We both said,"Bye," and that was it. After she left I grabbed a handful of books and headed off to the stacks and cried.
I hate it so much. It hurts. I want to be friends again. I want everything to be the same. I miss her SO much. She was the best friend I've ever had. Why does it have to be like this?

Greatness

Yesterday was the best Saturday ever! It was so great. I woke up early even though I went to bed late and I felt great. I was so wide awake and full of energy. Linda, Leesa and I took turns shifting nonfiction. I started in the morning to burn off some energy, then Leesa started helping me, then I switched with Linda and she continues after lunch. I started again at like 3:00 and got a pleasant surprise a few minutes later. Zach came in and we talked as I shifted. He helped me, too (unlike Kevin, the doofus, who just stands there drooling the whole time). It was nice. We talked about all kinds of stuff-church, music, comic books, superheroes...I was surprised that we managed to keep a conversation going the whole time, as neither one of us are big talkers. Before I knew it Linda was making the closing announcement. I got a lot done, so I wasn't just standing there talking the whole time. I started in the 747's and made it clear down to the 690's, so that was like a lot of work. I felt bad for talking so long, but everyone said it was okay, since I was working the whole time. Josh was like,"Did you have fun talking to your boyfriend?"
"NOT my boyfriend," I told him.
"...yet..." he said. I didn't say anything. "I'm gonna tell Brenda!" he threatened.
"No! You wouldn't! It's bad enough I have Becky on my back!"
"Becky? Is he...Oh, he's Becky's son, isn't he?"
"NO!" Great. Now everyone will know. I will have no more peace at the library. Gr. Oh well. It's not like he's my boyfriend or anything. We're just friends. He was okay with that, too, when I told him I just wanted to be friends. We're gonna go out with some of his friends next weekend, I think.
Groovy Josh is awesome. He's been coming in regularly and talking to me. He figured out that I don't have many friends so he told me I could talk to him whenever I wanted. He's cool. He totally wants me, though. SO not gonna happen.
Anyway, yesterday was great. It would've been great even if Zach hadn't come in. I can't say too many good things about Saturdays, usually, but I hope every Saturday will be this great. If only...

Alone time

I'm at work early today because Dad had to drop me off early. This is the first time I have ever been alone in the library for more than five minutes. It's kind of cool. It could be creepy, I guess, but I find that it's more peaceful than anything. Today will probably be dreadfully boring, but at least it's had a good start.