When did it begin?

At night, I sweat. My windows are open, the breeze blows in, but I'm burning my thoughts. Inevitably, I wake up at 5am to remove the damp tank top. And with that, Deuce walks over my body to nuzzle my face and kneed at the blankets.

I know where it comes from. Chris.

I'm jealous. He's got the boys and the beer, the truck and the stereo, the blondes and the housemates... he's got the PA chicks at work, the thin cute asian friends, the cell phone, an income I probably will never earn. And he's got me all twisted up. He called at 2pm on a Thursday. He knows my schedule. So he's avoiding me.

It's all at a horrible time. I see what they think about me at work. Sure, she's quiet - it's her first weeks. But now, after a month, I'm still a clam. Antisocial freak. They all have lovers. Everyone but Brent. And he goes to smoke with the fake-n-bake actress chicks from the studio next door.

Society and its norms are getting to me. I must have a boyfriend. I must be thin. I must wear their trendy stupidly-faded tight-ass jeans.

Blah blah blah.