caffeine + gregg = doom

i just had an espresso frappe- grande, the right size for me, no matter what type of drink i order- and cinnamon swirl, one of my two bread addictions (the other being breadtalk's floss varieties), so i cannot sleep.

i was with roxy, the only one who understands my promiscuity. and who accepts it as if it were the norm. i speak of the p word, because that's what we (in part) came to starbucks for (is it coincidence that the p object's name starts with exactly the letter p, too?), in this night of maddening holiday traffic. whatever the case, we did not find p there tonight, but i got to see this pretty barista up close. we used to think she hated roxy (for reasons that were not obvious, especially since she and roxy both live in the same building- the excelsior) but i heard and saw her greet roxy with enthusiasm and energy that must have come from a bottomless pit- for it was infectious and did not seem to end- and which smothered our doubts to oblivion. how foolish of us to to have even thought she held something against roxy!

well, anyhow, we retreated to our corner of the coffee shop- there, where we could see the comings and goings and spot the spottable and unspottable- and talked about, guess who- gregg. he would always be part of my thoughts, if not the whole of them. and as in every sigle preceding gregg conversation, i expressed my hope for him to talk to me as a friend would to another; we could pick it up from there, you know (hoping, hoping). all i got from him so far, were smiles of the uncertain kind- "should i smile or should i not?", was what i thought he must have been thinking in those rare occasions. sometimes i wonder, "is he even really smiling at me?" i mean, it's possible that i was just imagining him smiling- for all i know, he could be smirking all this time! curse him for all his ambiguities- he is successfully driving me to the edge!

here's how.

there were days when i would find him waiting for the elevator down, and i would go back hide where i came from (to avoid him, dummy), but i would come out (later, after forever) finding him where i had seen him, and i would have no choice but to take the same elevator that he would. at other times, i would go sleep in the lounge, fearing that my eyes wouldn't make it home straight from the office to my bed, and wake up, catching him watching (or seeming to watch) my waking actions (i.e., smoothing my ever-growing frizzy hair, yawning, et cetera). and we also have our pantry moments; having lunch together, one or two tables apart, and always, always, throwing glances each other's way. but we NEVER, NEVER, NEVER, NEVER, NEVER, NEVER, NEVER, NEVER talk!

i have tried to fathom my inadequacy to keep him out of my system, but it is not something within analytical range, so i let it on, to ravage what's left of my common sense and uncommon sensibility. i gave his presence power over my actions, his voice dominion over my realm. everything i do when he's around is for show- for him to catch, to hear, to see and hopefully, to like and long for...

what can i do? fall out of love?

i wish.