I've just finished downloading my old midi files (and dammit, I want my midi-maker back, I had WAY too much fun with that to give it up now) and am finishing the lyrics for the Chorus which I apparently never did. *blinkblink*

It's the commands. Her certainty that what she says, he will do. Little gestures... she seems so timid, but only while things are going her way. *blinks again* As I keep saying... reminds me of me.

...and no, I still haven't figured out how to handle it. I still intend to have a long talk with her (and NO, having it when I've already said I was about to pass out or having it in the company of any males is NOT going to happen) and I'll still try to point out the little things... most of the conversation that went on behind me as I was perched on the corner of the bed reading was making me clench my teeth every few paragraphs.

And he's worried about breaking her.

Apparently this is just my week to somehow be upset by even the little things. *twitchtwitchhide* I'm so very hiding. If I can't be civil in ways other people perceive as civil, if I can't deal with my own insecurities instead of with other peoples', if I can't do something USEFUL, then I've no reason and no right to interact.

I have a hard time, right now, being completely certain of how much of what I feel is just hormones and frustration, and how much is caused by Actual Problems, both mine and other people's. Mostly, I'm just annoyed that I can't pick out specific phrases and..... oooh!

Heh.

Idea. But it's the sort of idea only a very paranoid person would come up with, so for now I'm just going to let it stew.

"Last night... enjoying pushing my buttons..."

Yeah.

Little things.

VERY little things.

Damn, there's a lot of them, though.