It's winter again.
It's fucking cold.
Just like outside.

It's amazing how a German girl knows the very best English shows to watch.
In fact, the only time we've disagreed about something was the very first thing I knew she liked.
Twilight.  Go figure.
I miss her.  But things change, I guess.

Been watching a show called Californication, as per her recommendation.
It has become my new passionate addiction.
My newest way to step into someone else's life for a while and forget my own.

Only problem is it reminds me of someone I'd rather not be reminded of.
I miss her too.
Mostly the closeness that we shared.
But it doesn't matter.
Things change, remember?
Rarely for the better, it seems.

It's too cold.
I don't want to move.

"Just because you want someone in your life, doesn't mean they deserve to be there."
Posted as a status update from a friend.
I agree strongly with that statement.

Last time I wrote, I said my hope was waning.
And now it's all but gone.
Replaced by this ... inky blackness that's way too familiar.
And I do what I always did:
I escape.
I drown myself in other worlds.
Games, television, movies.
Anything that isn't my own life.
I can't even look myself in the eye.
It's back to that point again.
I need a new obsession.
I suppose that's why I fall in love with every pretty girl I see in my other worlds.
I want someone to replace her.
I hate saying that.
It's been a year, and I still can't get her out of my head.
It's pathetic.
She's moved on.
Or at least, I think so.
She's meeting people online, which hasn't worked out very well for her so far.
Don't know why, those other guys have no idea what they're passing up.
It'd be the best thing that'd happen for them.
But honestly, I wish she'd find someone.
It makes it harder to hope.

I'd like to write more, but people are starting to wake up.
Another time, perhaps.
I need to write more in general, it's much harder to say it otherwise.

... I always end up writing about her ...

People change so little over time.
It shouldn't surprise me, but it does.
Little things change, but that's it.
The nuances of a person are still there.
It's the nuances that make them unique.
It's the nuances that one loves.

I'm a sucker for nostalgia.
I seem to love things in my past a lot more than I should.
I absolutely love things from my childhood that I tout as amazing,
When in truth, they are likely much less than amazing.

I'm standing in place when I should be stepping forward.
Day by day passes, each looking exactly the same as the last.
I guess I'm just afraid to take another step.
Everyone else seems to inherently know exactly how to do it.
I watch as everyone else walks along, each step as sure-footed as the last.
And if I ask someone how exactly to mimic their movements, they scoff at me.
"How could you not know how?"
I know everything else, except how to walk, it seems.