I feel a little out of control, with work and eating, just when everything was going so well. And the crux of it is my performance in this play. I am relying on this man I like to save me when I'm not so certain of myself. I need to be perfect before relying on others to be.
I am not so sure the play is going to be a storming success; I am saying all of my lines the same, I'm not being very good at it. It could be, if I could get my arse in gear. I'm waiting for the director of the play to get his in gear, so that he can direct me and make it better. He can't because I'm the one doing it...
I like him, but I worry that he's as bad as someone I used to go out with; arrogant and awful at what he does simultaneously. I'd rather he was arrogant and excellent at what he did. He wears a lot of leather hats. I'm not sure why, or why he'd want to because his face is perfectly lovely.
I should stop using the word perfect.
I can talk to him.
And I do still want so much to touch him.
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