Fall from Paradise.

It's very very strange, suddenly waking up and realising that you're not in love. It took several months to get over BSC, and a year and more to get over K. But this boy? For once, the love story is longer than the aftermath. One day he was the world; the next day he was just one of many - rude, loud, boisterous. Just a boy.

It's amazing how you can take the most commonplace chap and turn him into Prince Charming in your mind. I had even nicknamed him Rochester, but oh, how he does little justice to the character. Has he always been so snappish? Has he always picked his ear like that? Has he always looked like a particularly dense sheep whenever he's around You-Know-Who? Has he always had that little pot belly and that biting sarcasm? How strange.

This is the first time it's happened, just like that. It normally takes me ages and ages and ages to get over boys; but then again, I'm a veteran of this love/hate game now. It's like being on that rollercoaster you so totally shouldn't have gone on, and it stops just before you're about to puke. And then you scramble off, too fast, and suddenly solid ground feels even worse than the rollercoaster. I feel a little empty, a little hollow; I'd spent so much time dreaming of could bes and blah blah that now I have so much time on my hands. I study. I knit. I eat. I sleep. I dance around in my bra and knickers before school singing some angsty sorority song. I waddle around, Shrek-love style. I have so much time to be myself, and not whatever I think he wants me to be.

I think it's part of growing up. It's part of realizing that is was never meant to be. It's part of realizing that in my life I'll do things greater than marrying the boy at the back of lit class. It's part of realizing that he's not all that amazing; and sometimes he can be a real pain in the ass. It's part of realizing that I'm fine, just the way I am, and having faith that one day somebody will see that, some day. It's part of realizing that life and love isn't a fairytale, and I've got to wing it alone until one day I'll have somebody sitting next to me, holding my hand on the rollercoaster.    

Maybe it's safer just mooning after Rochester and Heathcliff and Mr Darcy - safe, unattainable and fictional. But I don't entirely buy that I am too young - if I am too young, then why do I feel this, all the time?