Recently, a close friend confided that he's been having some women problems. That's right. Plural. And that's all he would tell me. This bothers me because, previously, he used to tell me quite a fair bit. It's not his sudden reticience I have an issue with, you understand. It's more to do with my hunch that I could be one of those causing him trouble.

And to tell the truth, he's a possible trouble-maker for me too, if I choose to go down that path. I'm, however fortunately, at that point when I can still hold back, trying to figure out whether I really want to jeopardise our really good friendship.

And thanks to my over-analytical, over-reactive brain, I could be reading too much into this.

But I really wish he'd talk to me, even just to chat about how bad his day has been. Even that he's not doing.

No matter. I shall take out my frustrations by smacking the pingu (current record: 588.3).