Sunday, September 5

It was peculiar to her how such a dramatic change in her perception of him had happened so rapidly. In a matter of hours, she had gone from being utterly infatuated by him - with an admiration that she held for no other - to the complete opposite. Which was not, as one might expect, disgust, or even contempt, but an absolute indifference to him and all that concerned him. In recognizing this newfound apathy towards the boy, who only yesterday had caused such turmoil and distress in her young mind, she was relieved. She could finally forget about him. It did not matter to her that it had taken but a few moments of frisky groping and touching to bring about their demise. Why should it? Specifics were hardly important. She knew it was mostly her fault, and for that she felt somewhat sorry for him. He had never stood a chance, really. She had put him on a pedestal, held him in such high regard, that he could never have lived up to her expectations. She had thought she had found something so sacred, and so vastly different in him, regardless of how many times he had told her otherwise. She should have listened. She shouldn’t have been so blind. She should have known, all along, that he was just like the rest of them, if not worse. At least they didn't appear to offer anything else.