(no subject)
Last night... was something. I'm not even talking about what most would talk about. I'm touching on the drive from the park to his car. I don't even fully remember how we got on that damn subject. I know he asked about guns... and how my mother would react if she found one in my glove box... Oh yeah. that's right. I talked of when she found the one in his nightstand. and her concerns. and mine. Of how, if he could do something that twisted to the person he claimed to love and want to marry and shit, how cruel could he be to the woman he married to get to his 'love'?
He's too good to me. He kept driving. I don't think anyone will ever get just how... nice it was that someone finally kept doing what they were doing. Every one else stops, stops driving, eating, working playing, talking whatever the hell they were doing when i slip into a telling mood, they stop. I hate it when they stop, I hate feeling like i'm putting a halt to their life by opening up to them. I HATE IT when they pull over to the side of the road... because they want to 'comfort' me or because they're afraid they'll be too upset to drive. I hate it when they stop. when they put everything on hold to listen. it bothers me. It makes me an imposition, and it makes it harder to talk. I need to have something to focus on, even if i'm not looking at it, something not stagnant something that won't always be there. the world outside, moving while he drove was perfect.It helped, it calmed me... I didn't cry last night, I don't think i've ever cried for such reasons with him. I didn't lose focus either. I didn't have to repeat things to remember... just to gain composure...
He helped, so much, He just sat and listened, and he held my hand, while he drove. Occasionally he'd make side comments (hey don't you live down there?) keeping it just light enough that i wouldn't break down. I don't know if he realixes that... I mean... i don't know. I didn't know that what happened could actually physically cause memory problems. I thought it was all just mental... He kept talking too... like he didn't even ask why, he realised something was different when i saw it... and he kept talking when i asked. It's the voices that help. if i can here someone else, rather than his voice in my head, i'm fine. So long as he tlaked i was fine. It was fucking red. Not even brown... But it didn't matter... he talked and held my hand, and as soon as it was out of site i was fine. I guess he's right, when I'm more pissed over it than afraid... It'll all be alright, it'll all work out, as soon as i'm over the fear. But it changes I'm better around him then i would be say, around my mother or my father.... because I can't tlak to them about it.
God he's good to me. Last night was just right... and as much as i didn't want to leave, he needed sleep, and i needed time to reflect. It worked so well... He's helped so much... he shouldn't have to. He just does. He just... can.
God I love him.
He's too good to me. He kept driving. I don't think anyone will ever get just how... nice it was that someone finally kept doing what they were doing. Every one else stops, stops driving, eating, working playing, talking whatever the hell they were doing when i slip into a telling mood, they stop. I hate it when they stop, I hate feeling like i'm putting a halt to their life by opening up to them. I HATE IT when they pull over to the side of the road... because they want to 'comfort' me or because they're afraid they'll be too upset to drive. I hate it when they stop. when they put everything on hold to listen. it bothers me. It makes me an imposition, and it makes it harder to talk. I need to have something to focus on, even if i'm not looking at it, something not stagnant something that won't always be there. the world outside, moving while he drove was perfect.It helped, it calmed me... I didn't cry last night, I don't think i've ever cried for such reasons with him. I didn't lose focus either. I didn't have to repeat things to remember... just to gain composure...
He helped, so much, He just sat and listened, and he held my hand, while he drove. Occasionally he'd make side comments (hey don't you live down there?) keeping it just light enough that i wouldn't break down. I don't know if he realixes that... I mean... i don't know. I didn't know that what happened could actually physically cause memory problems. I thought it was all just mental... He kept talking too... like he didn't even ask why, he realised something was different when i saw it... and he kept talking when i asked. It's the voices that help. if i can here someone else, rather than his voice in my head, i'm fine. So long as he tlaked i was fine. It was fucking red. Not even brown... But it didn't matter... he talked and held my hand, and as soon as it was out of site i was fine. I guess he's right, when I'm more pissed over it than afraid... It'll all be alright, it'll all work out, as soon as i'm over the fear. But it changes I'm better around him then i would be say, around my mother or my father.... because I can't tlak to them about it.
God he's good to me. Last night was just right... and as much as i didn't want to leave, he needed sleep, and i needed time to reflect. It worked so well... He's helped so much... he shouldn't have to. He just does. He just... can.
God I love him.