February 10, 1999

2/10/99 -- Man, I have a serious problem. I can't get Akiyo off my mind. What makes it so goddamn frustrating is that I know I should have her off my mind. She's not interested. She shouldn't be interested either -- I'm a gap-toothed nut. She's got a new man. He's into construction. I don't have a car, money, personality, or fun. She's got eyes like caramel and a rack that would launch a thousand ships (the latter not being one of my bigger interests, but it is for other guys).

So what's the problem? My brain hemispheres aren't communicating. The left side says, "Do not think about Akiyo as anything but a friend. Repeat, Do not think about..." while the right side says, "Akiyo Akiyo Akiyo Akiyo French Fries Akiyo Akiyo Akiyo..." And it's killing me. A fucking hour doesn't go by when I don't think about her, and I'm like, "Yo, what the hell is wrong with me?"

I've seen her, what, three times? We used to talk alot, about alot of weird shit. Not your average phone chats, believe that. But we don't talk that much anymore, although occasionally she'll get a hold of me at work and start ranting about her life, which I'm cool with -- I've always been a good shoulder to lean on for 10 minutes. Unfortunately, I'm never though of as being any other sort of body part besides a shoulder by anyone. And let's face it, the shoulder's pretty boring. It's sorta shapeless and hard. No one ever says something nice about someone's shoulders, unless you're Annette Bening.

Here's something sick -- I want to quit working here before Akiyo does b/c I can't stand the thought of coming to work and talking to someone else at our Century City office besides Akiyo. I can't imagine coming to work here and not hearing her voice at some point during the day.

I hoped time would make things better. I hoped working a few things out with her might make them better. I hoped looking at other chicks might help (although there aren't many too look at, especially at work. God I miss college). It hasn't.

It's not her problem. I feel damned sorry for her. I don't think she knows how I think about her still, and that's probably a good thing -- one less freaky thing in her life. She's got enough of them as it is, and it's a damn shame, b/c she's too good a person to have all this shit on her. She's nice, she's thoughtful of others, she's funny...and white boys schmucks like me come around and fuck up her life. God knows, I don't need this headache, either -- I got more than enuff serious problems that I should be fretting over instead.

God. I can't even talk to a shrink about this. Which reminds me, I need to dump my current one. She's old and stupid. And I'm a little wuss.