I spent 50 bucks today on a book that lists all kinds of publications and contact info for freelance writing, and the online membership that comes with it (so I can access the website for more postings and contact info). Only problem is that now I have lost my desire to write the Field of Dreams/bachelor party/coming of age story I envisioned before my trip.

I've lost the desire for a lot of things. I'm confused. I'm scared. I'm lethargic and lost, not sure what to do or say, how to make things better.

I know I'm silent and complacent, but that's because I'm not sure if I'm part of the problem or not. I don't think I am, and I hope I'm not. If I can be reassured of that, then I can feel better about a lot of things. I nearly cried this morning to hear that nothing excites you anymore.

I'm upset about my job, my finances, my living situation, too. But I consider our time together my reprieve from all that. When I don't see the same excitement to see me, then I worry. One of my faults, though, is that I don't always understand when people don't react the same way I do.

God, I hope you're not bored with me. I hope you're not tired of me. I would become physically ill to hear you say that you are.

I hope your trip -- as short as it is -- is good for you. I need this weekend for myself, too, I think, and I'll be anxiously awaiting your landing on Sunday night. And we'll do something special afterwards. Small and simple, but special, I hope.