True Happiness

I have long been under the impression that friends are the only people who actually give something vaguely resembling a shit about your happiness. Of all the people on the planet, your friends are supposed to be rooting for you. Your family might be crap, your life may suck, and a multitude of other agonies may be visited upon you daily, but your friends are there to lighten the burden and help you achieve what small successes you may be capable of.

At least that's what I thought before I became friends with Miyuki.

Now I know the truth.

Friends are only friends when there's no self-interest involved.

If your life is crap, great, I'll help make it better, I'll provide whatever little rays of sunshine I can, unless it's the sunshine I was planning to use for something, 'cause if it is, then you can just wallow in that shit a little longer.

That's right, my "friend" Miyuki is a terrible little whoring man thief.

Everyone knows I've wanted Christian forever. Well, at least since I first visited his blog. Even if we've never seen each other, I feel like I know him so well. How many countless times have I dreamt about his sweet, sweet ass? How often do I hope for the chance to meet him? Is my ardent admiration of him not ever present in the comments I have posted? I am sure that if I ever got the chance to be near him, that he could provide that little ray of sunshine I've been hoping for.

The fact that he might just be the salvation I've been looking for doesn't count apparently. Nooooo, Miyuki just has to keep us apart. Who would suspect that beneath such a cute facade there lurks a man-eating viper?

Christian knows I want him, he would have to be daft not to (which he is not). However, Miyuki has him so ensnared with her little cutenesses (like her cartoon squirrel sneezes) that he can not see his way clear of her. She has trapped him, and now she lords her happiness over me, well aware that every mention of them together is torture because it means that my own chance for happiness is so gleefully thwarted by her desire to manipulate and control men.

I fear, dear readers, the new depths of despair I will fall to as he becomes further and further out of reach. Every night, as I hug my home-made Christian doll, I wonder, when will I have my chance for joy? Will I ever get Christian?