[Private Filter]
I don't even know how to begin.
When Ian sat there and told me and Lucy that he'd planned to give us up? And that the only reason he wasn't was because Jane had insisted on an open relationship? And then Lucy gave that whole speech about sacrifice? I nodded and smiled because it would have made things worse. But the truth is what I thought then: What a crock of shit.
Ian will always be my friend. I will always love him. I will always want him. There are things we're going to do in life together, that we promised, no matter what the state of our relationship. Even if I'm not sleeping with him, he loves me. I'm his light.
But he doesn't write me poetry. He hasn't asked me to draw something that's going to get inked on his body. He doesn't press my cheeks with his hands and make faces and go beyond leaps and bounds to bring me through that cage I have to fight through every day to express myself. And when the glass breaks, rather than watch me bleed, it isn't he who bleeds instead.
It's Wu.
I know what he wants. I know he'll also never ask me for it. And eventually he'd reach the point where he couldn't bear it anymore, and I don't know what would happen, then. I don't even know if there's any kind of length to this - he's a business major. I'm an artist. How the hell is that supposed to even work? And I mean...my proclivities are not just going to shut off. What if I fuck up? What if I break his heart?
I can choose not to sleep with the man who loves me no matter what, or I can choose to let Wu go.
I am not letting Wu go.
After Thanksgiving.
When Ian sat there and told me and Lucy that he'd planned to give us up? And that the only reason he wasn't was because Jane had insisted on an open relationship? And then Lucy gave that whole speech about sacrifice? I nodded and smiled because it would have made things worse. But the truth is what I thought then: What a crock of shit.
Ian will always be my friend. I will always love him. I will always want him. There are things we're going to do in life together, that we promised, no matter what the state of our relationship. Even if I'm not sleeping with him, he loves me. I'm his light.
But he doesn't write me poetry. He hasn't asked me to draw something that's going to get inked on his body. He doesn't press my cheeks with his hands and make faces and go beyond leaps and bounds to bring me through that cage I have to fight through every day to express myself. And when the glass breaks, rather than watch me bleed, it isn't he who bleeds instead.
It's Wu.
I know what he wants. I know he'll also never ask me for it. And eventually he'd reach the point where he couldn't bear it anymore, and I don't know what would happen, then. I don't even know if there's any kind of length to this - he's a business major. I'm an artist. How the hell is that supposed to even work? And I mean...my proclivities are not just going to shut off. What if I fuck up? What if I break his heart?
I can choose not to sleep with the man who loves me no matter what, or I can choose to let Wu go.
I am not letting Wu go.
After Thanksgiving.