Chocolate Wall

I feel pretty shitty right now, like I came down with a disease that just makes someone feel like a total douche. It isn't quite depression, depression is a psychological condition. I suppose whatever is afflicting me is partially psychological, I would be able to feel much were it not.

Basically the plans to move to Chicago, not happening. Nikki had been speaking with a lady 'in the industry' over in the windy city and she only heard bad new. Her cousin hooked her up with this chick as far as a break down of what to expect upon moving, and she was basically told you'd be better off if you didn't move.

I know I didn't really play a hand in the ultimate defeat of Chicago, but I feel like I did. I wanted to wait a bit longer than jumping the next bus in November. I had basically forced my way onto the trip so because, and I've come to terms with this, I was desperate at the time.

Nikki is a fine piece of action, there is no denying that, but I feel much more for her than the anatomical pleasure. Her and I connect in a way I don't with most other people. She is one of the few unfortunate souls who have the pleasure of hearing my distastes because I am so comfortable with them. Plus, she doesn't seem to mind, so I think we have a pretty good thing going.

But as she got off the phone with this long winded woman ( whom she spoke to for over two hours ), I felt like I had plunged a dagger into her chest. She sobbed and poured her heart out to me, decrying her dreams as useless and her overall unfair treatment as ongoing. I coddled her and whispered to her. I devised a new plan for her, for us.

She eventually calmed down and agreed with me. Agreed that we would move in together and live around here for another year. We would get an apartment together to get her out of her parents' house and we would make new plans during the course of that year, find a new Mecca and plan our pilgrimage at the end of our stay wherever we found vacancy.

She agreed to it. She agreed to leave her dream behind for me and make a new dream starting here. She agreed to it, so why do I feel so low? Why do I feel like I was the lady on the other end of the phone telling her that her dreams were unreachable? What reason do I have to feel like a douche?

I hope this suspected douchery is just that. I hope I have no other reason to feel bad than sympathy pain. I hope I don't come to find that I'm just as big a jerk as you all think I am.