Looking through archives of my more verbose journal, I can't help but notice that I am funny in a pathetic way when I really like a woman. I have tentatively resolved to not do that again. It is better suited for fiction. Then again, in fiction it may seem a bit exaggerated. Here's from last Christmas:
I enjoy watching her eat. I am a sick, sick person in my brain. But at least I had some space for the dessert.
Someone please whack me with an oversized chocolate frog.