- Condition One: Attack is present, or imminent. The CIC is locked down and the ship's commander is on station.

- Condition Two: Threat probable, but not present.

- Condition Three: This is the "all clear" alert, returning crews to their normal, day-to-day non-combat duties after Conditions One or Two. This is normal cruising during wartime.



-The three states of readiness on Colonial Battlestars.

You're probably never gonna read this anyway. Who cares.

You're angry at me for something I did to you a few weeks ago, that you did to me 6 months ago.

You're not confused. You're mad. I was mad too. I didn't replace you at the drop of a hat like you did, but that's your problem, not mine.
You're probably laughing you little behind off. Will I just bathe myself in self-torture and self-pity.

And you need space. You want space? Go work at NASA. I think I deserve better than this. I deserve a lot better than this because I weathered every storm we had. I stuck in there through everything, the good and the bad.

And you need space.

And I had to find out on how you were using your "space" via Facebook.

I got scared. I read the wrong messages. You didn't do anything but nod your head and told me everything I wanted to hear.

And now you're angry. And dating.
"I never wished for a perfect love. I just wanted to be with someone who stays real when I'm unsure of everything."

Unsure. Of everything.

I don't know. I'm in love with a woman who is in love with someone else and who is dating someone else, but is confused and angry at me for understanding the wrong signs and signals that she couldn't communicate clearly.

You said it yourself! You KNOW that all of this is unfair, because it happened to YOU. And now you're doing it to ME.

That's really fucking unfair. And it hurts.

And now you won't look at me or talk to me. You offer me friendship. Why? So I can see you all lovey-dovey with your new "ME"? Fuck it.

I think that all is lost. I have woken up with the sense that I could still save this, but every second that goes by while you're in your "space", I feel that it's another second that we drift apart. Possibly permanently.

I let myself go with you. And you've hurt me. Twice.

Who do you think should be angry? I should be angry. But, I'm not. I'm just hurt and sad.

So. Yeah, take all the fucking time you need. Since I'm a giant idiot, in all definitions of the word, I'll be standing next to my phone, like a sick puppy.

And you'll probably won't give a flying fuck. You probably don't give a fuck. You call me "special" and you say that you love me and stuff.

And then you replace me.

I don't know if to give up or fight for what I want. And possibly love.
I don't know. I'm gonna go get plastered.
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