Disgusting little freak... again....!

You'd think that by now, I'd have gotten over it and moved on with my life. But no. Of course not. I have no idea why, but there's always this consistant, pressing need to DO somthing about the fact that the one person I was never able to proove myself to still thinks I'm a disgusting little freak. Really, in all utter honesty, I have gotten over HIM, but this isn't about HIM anymore. It's about the fact that he bested me. And no one ever gets to do that and get away with it. Ever.
       The point of the matter is, I don't freak out. I honestly don't. Well, I suppose that's not true. I do. Quite a bit actually, although less frequently now than I used to. Anyways, when a person gives me enough grief to cause me to have a miniature brain hemerage every time I see them, it's a big deal to me. I don't like it when people have the ability to get me that worked up. At the point in time at which I realizer that this is in fact the case, I usually turn it into a game. They continue, knowingly or otherwise, to wrile me up, and I struggle with myself to wage war through self-control. Cold, logical self-control.
       But apparently, this doesn't work where certain people are involved. Certain people have this relentless pull attached to them, like black wholes attracting billions and billions of stars and gallaxies every minute, these people have such a strong pull on the person I am that I find myself completely absorbed in their existance.
       They become distractions. Which is highly irritating and not very pleasant at all. And the thing I hate absolutely the most about it is this: that once they're a distraction, this distraction doesn't ever go away. Ever. My best friend happens to fall into this category, although I think the two of us have learned to read each other well enough to know when to leave each other allon and when to pester the crap out of one another.
        But this particular distraction was not only never going to get out of my head, but he was never NOT anywhere. He would keep popping up in the most inconvenient places, with the most inconvenient people. And not to mention that said inconvenient people all seem to bear blood fuedal grudges against me. To make matters worse, he knew he was my distraction. And so therfore they did too. And they certainly didn't help me forget about him.
        Oh, and have I yet mentioned that this particular distraction hates me too? Maybe he doesn't hate me, but for whatever reason, I am apparently beneath his stature. Why? No idea whatsoever. And of course, as my distraction, he seems completely oblivious to my existance. And of course of course of COURSE it has to be IMPOSSIBLE for me to say more than fifteen words to him in one sitting. Of COURSE. Just my luck.
      
       Not to change the subject or anything, but when something I do bothers someone, they really should just tell me. I hate hate HATE it when I'm doing something that bothers someone and they just keep on letting me do it, like everything's fine and dandy. Because then they become uninterested, I become a nusance that they can't wait to be rid of, and the world is absolutly splendid. NOT!
       Gads! Sometimes I really do wish I wasn't as crazy or as nerdy or as smart. Or such a good writer, or as weird or as empathetic or as perceptive or as... anything I am!

Come to think of it, maybe I am a disgusting little freak and he was right all along...