Hopeful coherency in the face of whiskey and tears

well, not so many tears. Remarkably, when drunk, I may be slightly more depressed, but I don't cry. And Tonight I think I am actually far less unhappy drunk than sober. And, no, my tolerance has not improved any. 1.25 shots of honey whiskey and I am almost too drunk to walk. But tonight it at least tasted good. I could appreciate the sweetness of the honey on my lips after the liquid had burned its way down my throat, and didn't need to drink it fast to finish it. Tonight is one of the best illustrations for me as to why, even if I was tempted, I would prefer to remain an atheist. No God I could respect would make one person's happiness the cause of another's misery. I never really chose to be in love, and it is not like he was looking to fall for someone else rather than try dating me. He is in love and wants to marry someone, and is very happy. I am in love with him still, and while I am glad for him, it hurt too much to stay sober tonight, and I suspect the whiskey tasted good only in comparison to the pain I was in before it hit. I don't want to sour his happiness, so while he is one of my best friends, and if I was in love with anyone else I would be talking to him before anyone else, I cannot talk to him, however much I feel as if I need to. I have not really talked to anyone else about him, because of the mess of circumstances involved, and because I felt it was something between us, that had no reason to crop up elsewhere. He knows how I feel about him, and unless he had wanted to try dating me, no one else needed to really know. So soon after Andrew, too, I felt silly if I was to talk to my friends about him, cause I am not some silly girl to be chasing every cute boy I meet. So I will get over him, but it will take time. He used to be someone I would talk with for hours, and had that continued, maybe this would be less painful, but circumstances have kept us from talking for too long. I needed to talk to him for most of this past week, and kept putting off calling, for fear that I would be getting in the way of something, and now. . . I still feel like I need to talk to him, like I could talk to him for hours and days and weeks and not run out of things to say to him, yet I doubt I could talk to him for more than ten minutes without crying. He is the last person who has seen me cry and the only person right now I would not be uneasy about crying around, but I don't want to cry with him there. I see him so rarely, that if I ever get to talk to him or see him I want to enjoy it. I love him for his ability to remind me of why it is good to be alive, in spite of all the crap we have been through. I am glad still that the universe created a person like him; it would seem rather empty now if he was no longer in it. But I miss having him as an active part of my universe. Life with him around was so much better than before that it seems empty and shallow without him now. He has only a few weeks till he leaves for summer camp, and if I have missed him these two months past, I am almost certain not to hear from him for the rest of the summer unless I somehow get to camp myself, which is looking quite unlikely. I guess I should be glad I never was dating him, cause if it hurts this bad now, it would have been unbearable if we had been any closer.