It never ceases to amaze me how people can weave themselves in and out of your life. I could insert every cliché ever – “Some people are here for a reason, some people are here for a season,” etc., etc. – but, they’d all be true.

Sometimes, I think those reasons are immediately apparent. Other times, it can take quite a while to see the bigger picture. I’m not going to start naming every guy I’ve dated and the reasons why I think they were brought into my life, but it’s certainly something I think about.

Logan was one of the encounters that will take longer for me to figure out. I can pinpoint the feelings and changes that came about because of my time with Logan. However, it’s his unexplained disappearance that has left me in a worse place than any other guy before. Except, maybe RX. But, RX was an entirely different situation. He still is.

What brought about this entry – this random thought piece – is the amount of communication I’ve recently had with Greg from New York City. We have talked almost every day for – I don’t even know anymore. I’ve lost track. But, isn’t that so weird?

I met Greg the night before I met Logan. That crazy December evening in New York City, right before I really messed myself up at a Greenwich Village house party. We went on a short, impromptu date at a monster-themed bar and took Jell-O shots from syringes. Then Logan happened, and I disappeared on Greg. I know. I’m an asshole.

Oh, God. I am an asshole. Fuck. Why am I always so unaware of my own actions? I get so upset and hung up on everything people do to me – on being “the victim” – that I fail to realize I have played the same role to so many other guys. Is this karma? A mentor of mine once told me that there’s no such thing as karma.

“If there were, then why would bad things happen to good people?” she asked me.

Well, maybe those people just think that they’re good. Perhaps they’re simply blind to the implications of their actions. Okay. Too much thinking.

Anyway, I reconnected with Greg in February. I had re-downloaded Tinder while I was in Vegas, and after some (mostly drunk) exchanges, we switched to iMessage. We’ve been texting ever since.

Greg is so great to talk to. It’s such a weird dynamic, because it’s all digital. We rarely talk on the phone, but we always manage to have a stimulating conversation. Even if we’re just talking about Christina Aguilera. What makes the whole connection even more interesting, however, is that I don’t think there’s a romantic component to it anymore. Greg and I just really seem to get one another. We’re both humorous types, with a hidden emotional layer. Greg and I talked all day today. Again. From the start of my 9 a.m. shift at The Store, to right now at 1 a.m.

What I’m so poorly trying to say with all of this, is that my date with Greg in December happened for a reason. I was meant to meet Greg. I value our friendship. Deep down, despite the immense pain that Logan has inflicted on me, I know that there’s a reason I met him, too. I just wish it didn’t hurt so much to think about him.

I worked from 9 a.m. to 1:30 p.m. at The Store, because they let me go early. The Store had made negative $0.12 by 1 p.m., so they were not going to make their budget for the day. That was fine with me, though! I left in a pretty good mood, after what was yet another day serving a town of swamp creatures. I was blatantly on my phone almost the entire shift. I also processed about $1,000 worth of merchandise returns. Fuck it.

I’m staying at Casa Z again, so I drove here after The Store and began working immediately. I sent emails, scheduled appointments, and followed up on a variety of job applications. After almost a dozen emails and phone calls to Snapchat over the past two weeks, I received a very generic “Thanks, but no thanks” rejection from a “Do Not Reply” e-mail address today. Fucking cowards. Oh, well. Add them to the list.

I managed to score an interview for an internship at DigiPrint today. I swore I wouldn’t work with them again after my heinous Toronto Fashion Week experience last month. However, DigiPrint reached out to me specifically because of that contract. You see? Maybe things do happen for a reason.

I’m still pushing for a position with The Toronto Film Group. Anderson Evans is working on getting some inside information for me, so we’ll see what happens with that. I’m also going to visit a music studio this week – just as I initially did with DigiPrint – in an attempt to hand deliver an application and secure an interview. Finally, a Monday where things happened!

It poured rain all day. For whatever reason, I got the “cleanse” bug this evening. No, not diarrhea. Although, I did have the runs this morning at work. I mean the “Spring Cleaning” cleanse bug. After a nap, I decided to gut a ton of my bedroom drawers. One full recycling bin later, I had ditched most of my university years. I kept the exams folder, because I’m sure there’s some funny shit in there, but the textbooks had to go.

Amidst my cleaning, I found this “birthday locker” thing from my eighteenth birthday. I had forgotten people did that in high school. Friends would tape a chain of blank paper to your locker for your birthday, students would walk through the hallways, see the paper, and leave you a birthday note. What an awful idea for a high school birthday.

As I read through the messages, I noticed that one of them had been altered. Someone clearly wanted to save me from reading whatever cruel thing “Random Guy” wrote. The Good Samaritan had had scribbled out the original derogatory note, and replaced a couple of the words with something nice. It’s funny how we form certain memories about high school. About life in general, really.

Usually, it’s the bad stuff we remember. Painful experiences that leave deep emotional scars. Although, as evidenced by my birthday locker notes, I guess there are some things that we block out without even realizing.

My foot is almost back to normal. There’s still a bit of pain, though. I probably should have run tonight, but I didn’t want to risk messing it up even more. I did floor exercises, and then sat in the shower for half an hour. After that, I gorged on the pizza that Mom had made earlier as I watched a YouTube video of an elephant dissection. A casual Monday night.

I like being at Casa Z. It’s comforting. It’s also slightly annoying at times, though. Mom and Dad can be very inquisitive when they want to be. Mind you, I’d rather have that than parents who are out to lunch on their kids’ lives. I know what I have. I know how fortunate I am. I’m extremely appreciative and grateful for everything that I’ve been given in my life. I just wish I knew how to express it better. I’m trying.

I’m also trying to remove any negativity from my life. Unfortunately, I think that needs to start with some of my “friends.” Evan went off on Dan again today. He had told us about an award he’s receiving at work, and Dan replied to our group chat with a clip of a drunk Liz Taylor at the Golden Globes. Fucking hilarious! Naturally, Evan didn’t think so. He blew his lid, and it was too much. Witnessing Evan’s extreme reaction reminded me of all the times he has gone off on me. It’s ridiculous. The kid needs to cool it. I’m tired of his negativity. A lot of tonight’s drama reminded me why I’ve never had many gay friendships. I want my girlfriends back in my life.

I need to go to bed. It’s 1:30 a.m., and these journal entries have been out of control lately. Tabitha is sleeping on my bed. I also have no desire to smoke weed, despite there being a full baggie of it in my bathroom drawer. That’s good!

Goodnight xo