In which I jump ahead to now

I should have kept this up. I should have kept writing, remembering, but now I need to write about what is happening now, and hope, I guess, that this blog just stays in obscurity. Such a strange clash of interests, needing to put it out there, but hoping it never gets seen.
I'm sitting here watching the text bar flash at me. It's not helping, not offering me any solutions to my problems or suggestions on how to accurately describe everything that I'm feeling. I watch it flash and a million thoughts cross through my head.
"For the first time in a long time, the person I'm in love with and the person I'm constantly thinking about are not the same," my mind narrates to me, "and I hate it."
I don't hate the person I'm thinking about. I don't regret it. It does make me feel bad though. I shouldn't be thinking like this. This isn't someone I want to settle down with. I don't envision us with a cute house, a beautiful garden and a son and daughter, the way I see myself and my boyfriend in ten years. I just want to rip all of his clothes off and kiss and bite him... but at the same time I don't want to. I've got a good thing. He's got a good thing. That would really fuck things up, and I don't want that.
He really gets me. I love it. I hate that I love it. There are countless times I'll open my mouth to say something and he speaks my very thoughts. He notices the subtle things I do to catch his attention. Not that I should be doing things to catch his attention, but I'm still working on stopping myself.
Caustically witty. Kinky. Intelligent... Intelligent enough to know exactly what we're doing without the restraint to stop ourselves. We should. We know we should. It can't happen again. We both know it might. Both have a real penchant for self-destruction. I feel almost helpless in my own mind.
I can hear the crowds, the commentators of the public inside my head. "Why don't you just stop? Show some self control. Self respect. Stop being a slut!" I wish I could. I mean, I don't mean to be. I love my boyfriend, I do.

In which grade 10 is a lot like grade 9...

Grade 10 was my last normal year in my life. I had good friends, good times, decent grades...

The only thing of any real note from grade 10 is that Dave started hanging out with my group of friends. A year younger than us, but still much smarter and much more mature than other guys his age. Our Three became a Four as Dave became part of the "core".

In grade 10 I was still playing piano, still figure skating, and I also volounteered at Camp X occasionally. Brewster and I were still dating long-distance.

This is also about the time I seriously started doing stuff on the internet. I'd casually putzed about in chatrooms, frogs in blenders and stick death before that, but grade 10 was an internet awakening of sorts.