A long time ago The Boy had some passion for a project called "Sorry For Being Me." But as he lay awake in bed for a long time this morning, he wondered if he should start a project called "Sorry For Not Being Her."

He didn't have any ideas for it. He just thought that the title was apt.

There have been a lot of apt things this morning. Just then my mum barged in (well not really barged, she did ask if she could have a chat, though not like I was going to say no!) and sat on my bed. I told one of the biggest bent truths ever. She asked me if I'd decided what I was going to do with The Girl. If I was going to contact her (or at least try) and then try to see her or if I was going to move on. Well, try to move on. My mum knows that this will be highly difficult for me. It's part of her great understanding of her son. Understanding that I've often underestimated, or at least underappreciated in the past.

I said quietly that I'd decided to move on, which I think comforted her a little. So this bent truth was a good one. It means that both The Boy and his mother are happy enough at the moment.

As I was laying in bed this morning I was thinking of the likelihood of me crying if I ever slept with anyone else. The crying would come on the first time I reckon. I would be asked just why I was crying, and I would reply with something like, "It's because it means so much to me to be sleeping with you."

Another bent truth.

Probably a lot of my thoughts from this morning have been forgotten, but one thing that came to mind was just how much I have lived my life like a movie for more than four and a half years. Not in the sense that I've actually felt like I was in one and that therefore my mistakes could be simply erased (though I have made mistakes, some of which I've been blissfully unaware of, and I do try to make up for mistakes, and I also could be rightfully accused at times of thinking that I'm all high and mighty!), but in the sense of dreaming of a fairytale ending.

We do lose much of our ability to be really happy and really excited once we exit childhood. But I was lucky enough to rediscover a comparable joy to parts of childhood once again. This came on December 5, 2005 of course, and it's since then that I've been totally addicted to the dream of having a fairytale ending. To being with someone who provides me with an overload of happiness.

The dream hasn't always remained alive though. In the early phases of 2008 I'd lost faith in it, when I was wanting to be with someone who I didn't care that much about. I can remember that my mum (which was annoying to me at the time) tried to restore my faith in finding the one, but I cynically declared that stuff like that only happens in the movies, and that I should start being realistic. Something like that.

My faith was restored on May 19, 2008, even though I didn't fully believe. And since then I've often told myself that I didn't believe and/or that I didn't want to believe.

These were actually bent truths to myself. Which I guess made me feel happy enough at those moments.

Last night was a good night. Firstly because I really tried and was myself. Secondly because I was very excited. Thirdly because I wasn't too expectant (to hope for something too much is not good), which led to me not being too disappointed.

I've realised that I'm going to continue to be lonely and very uncomfortable amongst many people in society. But I've also realised that by living the dream I am still living with a childlike excitement which so many adults can't experience. And I may as well keep battling through the really stormy seas because I'm never going to experience the calmest of waters unless I'm sailing with her anyway. So as may as well keep taking the ball hard to the basket, as I did last night. At least occasionally.

And maybe I've arrived back to a point where I can strangely get enough out of just our writing relationship. At least enough to carry on without needing to be with someone else.

Regardless of anything else, I think that if we do have our second time then I'll be largely not expecting it. That would be apt.

It was almost 10am this morning when my mum first came into my room. My dad would come in soon after and comment on my tiredness, but that this was a "healthy tiredness." She was fairly excited, and she had a fair right to be, as there'd been some pretty amazing happenings. Usually most things don't even get me to bat an eyelid (I just say yeah and nod) because I'm thinking about being with her (which I think about more than winning an Olympic Marathon gold medal which I did when I was just a boy), but I did have some interest in these.

Firstly Australia won in the soccer which was nice. They didn't qualify for the second round, but a win, a draw and a loss is pretty good for them I reckon, and there was justice done for Tim Cahill who scored a goal.

Secondly we have a new Prime Minister, and a first female one. This surprised me a lot. I thought that all the speculation was just media driven. But it's nice that Gillard is our new leader. She seems like she could do a good job (not that I take a great interest in politics). And I think that my dad will be happy because he certainly doesn't want to see Abbott in the top job! Though personally I think there is a fraction bias here against his religious beliefs.

But biased or not (well I suppose we're all biased to some degree) I will vote for Julia.

The third bit of news was so mind boggling that I thought my mother was kidding me. I didn't believe her the first time. But no she repeated it, that there was a men's Wimbledon tennis match that was 59-59 in the fifth set! It has been going for about ten hours. Anyone who knows anything about tennis will know that this could compare to say, a team scoring 15 goals in a World Cup match. There have not been many games to go past 20 all in the fifth set, and I've never heard of any that got to 30. So 59 all is an ultimate freak thing in sport, kind of like some of Usain Bolt's performances.

But maybe it's apt. A tennis game that has been going on for a long time, reaching heights that nobody thought was possible.

I also checked out her site this morning before I wrote this piece. There were three differences. The first was highly positive. The second I took as very negative (though even if it is she hasn't meant it to be), though it could still be a bit positive, in a way. The third thing that I noticed was a bit strange. I have no idea if it is positive or negative, but I think that it's significant.

That's really all that I know right now. Which is really not a lot. I will take advantage (for a change) of the fact that I'm not working and go for a run shortly, and then afterwards I may do a small weights session (dad was giving good advice before, saying that I should keep these two things regular, like I do with my writing).

And expectations? Hopefully I can keep these to a minimum while at the same time keeping the dream alive. It's nice to have a life where you just don't know what's going to be around that next corner. Where all your Christmas' can come at once.

It probably will not, but it is nice that this boy can still dream.