I've just finished composing (It's a lot more fun than simply writing.) a letter to E. I don't know why, but i need him to understand everything and i need some sort of response. It said my usual things and asked, at one point, that he read my blog. I hope he does, though i don't have much hope. Especially as i'm too much of a coward to actually give him the letter myself and have asked J and S to deliver it for me, preferably into his hands. That's hardly going to convince him i'm me and i'm telling the truth, assuming that's still the problem.

I suppose, in a year's time that none of this will matter. But right now, for some reason, it does. It really does. It no longer eats me up inside (Although it may do if i see him again tomorrow.) but it really, really irritates me that i can't know what, specifically, the problem is. I'm not such a bad fellow. Perhaps if i'd done things differently he at least wouldn't hate me, but, it seems, he does.

I'm just as annoyed, really, by my own attitude. I know that alot of the feelings i have for E are based solely on the fact that i consider him beautiful (Having, as it seems i have, rather a penchant for red-haired individuals.) not his personality, which really i know nothing about. Based on subsequent accounts by various people he doesn't sound such a nice chap, but he never seemed so to me. Apart, obviously, from the consequences of that foolish e-mail.

I went out, earlier tonight, to celebrate the birthday of one of my 'old' friends. I had a lot of fun. We ate and then bowled. Bowling is fun when nobody cares that you're terrible at it. Which i am, of course. I was very proud of the strike i managed. It was great, though, seeing these people with whom i'velet relationships slip. I miss them. I was, i really was, a fool. So i'm glad of my resolutions last night, despite the patronisingly magnanimous "straight people aren't that bad after all" way in which i made them.

And yes, i am aware that, of all the times these resolutions could have been made, at the very end of my school career is very possibly the worst, as we're all about to whizz off to various parts of the country. I suppose it has about as much currency now as a death-bed repentance.