Yea, though I walk through the valley of the Shadow of Death...
...I will fear no evil.
Why am I crying again? Some wicked bad PMS man.
Maybe I'm more afraid to hope than I thought I was. Looking back over the last few days... I don't know. And I don't know who is going to read this anymore. And I don't care. I think this place is safe again. If I find out differently, I'll fix it. But until I find out differently I'm going to assume it's safe. Because I need it. And I can't do it if I'm writing for an audience. Especially not the kind I've had lately...
It's unbelievable, I mean truly beyond comprehension for me, the things that boy can do to me. I'm sitting in Bryan's car on the way home from Rita's... and like, all of a sudden he's there, wham-o, in my head, I hear him and I see him and I feel him. And I'm used to that. It's always like that. But this time... this big old smile forms itself on my face, I couldn't have stopped it if I tried. And I lean back and I close my eyes and I just love loving him. Bryan's all "What? Why are you crying?? NO! DAMNIT!" And I look at him... and he's like... "oh... my god. You're smiling. You're smiling a lot. Lookit you!" lol. Was it so uncommon to see me smile? Oh, lord, I'm still so afraid. Why? Why am I still afraid? Why can't I just be happy?
Because I've been happy before, and I've had belief before, and it's been ripped away from me.
Damnit.
He sounded a little lost Sunday night. And I truly do not believe he said everything he wanted to say. Not by half. But... if what he said was true... and through it all I still (foolishly??) believe he won't lie to me... then by the gods everything's going to be all right. He said he wants help. Not "I want to get for you and my mom" but "I want help. I don't want to be this person anymore." And that's... that's the turning point, you know? 'Cause you can therapy yourself into the ground, but unless YOU want the change shit won't do you any good. His first session is exactly two weeks from tomorrow. And that's a long time. Too much can happen in two weeks. So I'm scared for that. But I want to believe, because I want him, because I need so badly for things to be right. Because I love him so fucking much. It hurts so bad to love him this much. But I can honestly say, now, tonight, and for always as long as he's in it... I wouldn't give up the hurt for the world. I want him, and that means I'm willing to take all of it. You know?
He said he needs me. I'm glad it was over the phone, tell you what, 'cause I must have looked pretty ridiculous when he said it. My jaw dropped, my eyes about buggged out of my head, and I stopped breathing for a couple seconds. I think my heart may have actually skipped a beat or two. Something about those words, I guess. And those are things... he wouldn't just say those things, right? Of course not. Why would he bother, if none of it were true? I hate doubting him. I mean, granted, I've been given reason... but I just hate doubting him. It feels... yucky. And really (...and maybe this is the answer to what everyone keeps asking: "why do you bother, why do you love him?") deep down, if not in my heart, then in my gut I feel that this is right. That it will somehow be right. And that he was telling the truth. After all, him and his truth are what started this whole mess (haha).
He said everything he says anymore are just words. Sounded to me like he was saying he's on the outter edges of shutting down. Because some of the things he said sounded pretty damn familiar. And he's right. Because when he says he loves me... those are just words now. So I won't ask him to say it again, like I did Saturday night. But I'll be damned if that means I won't say it to him. And just hope he absorbes it. And really, that it's just words are OK... because when he was here, when he was holding me, when he was kissing me (...oh, lord, when he was kissing me...) I felt it plenty strong. When he looks at me sometimes... it hits like a freight-train. So it's OK. Because words... sometimes they shut down to give your emotions a chance to get their hand-holds back. I'm just... so scared of what's going to happen in the next two weeks. Things can change so fast. And it's like after the hospital... I knew if I could just hold him, if I could just be there, he'd be all right. I could make it all right, somehow, damnit, I could! That's a little what this feels like. But I was wrong then. I went right ahead and held him... and he went right ahead and fucked me over. Why am I still here?
But I can answer that now. Because I love him. Because it feels right. But more than anything, and the only answer I need, is because I love him.
I wish I could be there more for him. If I could just somehow keep him with me (disturbing and misleading images of a puppy on a leash come to mind) then he'll be OK. Fuck that, if I can just have him with me then I'll be OK. I wish I knew what to do. I wish I could do more. I wish I had a magic wand or something, you know? lol. Just take all his hurt away. Just let him be happy. Even if I had to take it all into me, I'd do it. In a heartbeat. I wish...
Irony: I once got a text message from him that ended like that. "I wish..."
Insomnia, insomnia, how I love to hate thee......... you know insomnia does some funny things to your mind. It's twenty after midnight now. Twice now, sitting here, I've gotten dizzy and yes, I believe, come plenty close to passing out. I know that feeling well enough. But as soon as I lay down, all the circuits will gear themselves back up and I'll lay there for... oh, hours, probably. It feels like tonight I might get to sleep by two or so. And I've run out of good books to read, damnit.(Janet)
I didn't talk to him today. I hate it when I don't talk to him. And I hate that I hate it. The longest we've gone without talking (since he came home, anyway) was a week. Not that long ago, either. And it was the hardest damn thing I've ever done. And it took him over a week to notice. Bastard.
Sometimes I wish I were a boy.
I have to ask Daddy tomorrow how to rig this shit up so it'll log all the IPs that look at it. What a pain in the ass. Since Mr. Comment Man came along I'm wondering just who else might be peeking in every so often. And, of course, there's Kevin. I do believe he'll leave it alone, he just wanted that one big old... whatever it was. And I guess it doesn't really matter... but like I said, I'd rather know, because it'll just start to feel wierd if I'm writing for an audience. The number of people that read this are so few (all two of you... maybe three, sporadically) that it really is like I'm writing these like letters to myself. And that's how it's supposed to be. For me, anyway. What a pain in the ass.
heh, 'nother dizzy spell. Makes typing feel funny.
I keep dreaming about him. I don't usually dream about people. And never more than once in a row. Odd dreams. Some of them I kind of get... but some of them are just bizarre. It's a measure of how deep in I am that he's so in my sub-concious. It's... disconcerting, sometimes.
And still it amazes me that through that much confusion and bad shit... through all that... when I'm just still, and thinking about him, just him, mind you, and not any of the other stuff, just him. I smile. Involuntarily. How many times have I said that in the last ten entries? lol. But it never stops amazing me. It never stops catching me off-gaurd either.
It's cold in here. And my blankets are calling me.
More useless circles.
This night, these stars, they shine for you
This night, in love, I'll see you through
I'll tell the night, it'll hold you close
I'll whisper the stars, you whisper the ghosts
We'll watch them dance, the night is ours
We'll keep us safe in the little hours
If you hold me now we can melt away
If you ask me... don't; you know I'll stay
Why am I crying again? Some wicked bad PMS man.
Maybe I'm more afraid to hope than I thought I was. Looking back over the last few days... I don't know. And I don't know who is going to read this anymore. And I don't care. I think this place is safe again. If I find out differently, I'll fix it. But until I find out differently I'm going to assume it's safe. Because I need it. And I can't do it if I'm writing for an audience. Especially not the kind I've had lately...
It's unbelievable, I mean truly beyond comprehension for me, the things that boy can do to me. I'm sitting in Bryan's car on the way home from Rita's... and like, all of a sudden he's there, wham-o, in my head, I hear him and I see him and I feel him. And I'm used to that. It's always like that. But this time... this big old smile forms itself on my face, I couldn't have stopped it if I tried. And I lean back and I close my eyes and I just love loving him. Bryan's all "What? Why are you crying?? NO! DAMNIT!" And I look at him... and he's like... "oh... my god. You're smiling. You're smiling a lot. Lookit you!" lol. Was it so uncommon to see me smile? Oh, lord, I'm still so afraid. Why? Why am I still afraid? Why can't I just be happy?
Because I've been happy before, and I've had belief before, and it's been ripped away from me.
Damnit.
He sounded a little lost Sunday night. And I truly do not believe he said everything he wanted to say. Not by half. But... if what he said was true... and through it all I still (foolishly??) believe he won't lie to me... then by the gods everything's going to be all right. He said he wants help. Not "I want to get for you and my mom" but "I want help. I don't want to be this person anymore." And that's... that's the turning point, you know? 'Cause you can therapy yourself into the ground, but unless YOU want the change shit won't do you any good. His first session is exactly two weeks from tomorrow. And that's a long time. Too much can happen in two weeks. So I'm scared for that. But I want to believe, because I want him, because I need so badly for things to be right. Because I love him so fucking much. It hurts so bad to love him this much. But I can honestly say, now, tonight, and for always as long as he's in it... I wouldn't give up the hurt for the world. I want him, and that means I'm willing to take all of it. You know?
He said he needs me. I'm glad it was over the phone, tell you what, 'cause I must have looked pretty ridiculous when he said it. My jaw dropped, my eyes about buggged out of my head, and I stopped breathing for a couple seconds. I think my heart may have actually skipped a beat or two. Something about those words, I guess. And those are things... he wouldn't just say those things, right? Of course not. Why would he bother, if none of it were true? I hate doubting him. I mean, granted, I've been given reason... but I just hate doubting him. It feels... yucky. And really (...and maybe this is the answer to what everyone keeps asking: "why do you bother, why do you love him?") deep down, if not in my heart, then in my gut I feel that this is right. That it will somehow be right. And that he was telling the truth. After all, him and his truth are what started this whole mess (haha).
He said everything he says anymore are just words. Sounded to me like he was saying he's on the outter edges of shutting down. Because some of the things he said sounded pretty damn familiar. And he's right. Because when he says he loves me... those are just words now. So I won't ask him to say it again, like I did Saturday night. But I'll be damned if that means I won't say it to him. And just hope he absorbes it. And really, that it's just words are OK... because when he was here, when he was holding me, when he was kissing me (...oh, lord, when he was kissing me...) I felt it plenty strong. When he looks at me sometimes... it hits like a freight-train. So it's OK. Because words... sometimes they shut down to give your emotions a chance to get their hand-holds back. I'm just... so scared of what's going to happen in the next two weeks. Things can change so fast. And it's like after the hospital... I knew if I could just hold him, if I could just be there, he'd be all right. I could make it all right, somehow, damnit, I could! That's a little what this feels like. But I was wrong then. I went right ahead and held him... and he went right ahead and fucked me over. Why am I still here?
But I can answer that now. Because I love him. Because it feels right. But more than anything, and the only answer I need, is because I love him.
I wish I could be there more for him. If I could just somehow keep him with me (disturbing and misleading images of a puppy on a leash come to mind) then he'll be OK. Fuck that, if I can just have him with me then I'll be OK. I wish I knew what to do. I wish I could do more. I wish I had a magic wand or something, you know? lol. Just take all his hurt away. Just let him be happy. Even if I had to take it all into me, I'd do it. In a heartbeat. I wish...
Irony: I once got a text message from him that ended like that. "I wish..."
Insomnia, insomnia, how I love to hate thee......... you know insomnia does some funny things to your mind. It's twenty after midnight now. Twice now, sitting here, I've gotten dizzy and yes, I believe, come plenty close to passing out. I know that feeling well enough. But as soon as I lay down, all the circuits will gear themselves back up and I'll lay there for... oh, hours, probably. It feels like tonight I might get to sleep by two or so. And I've run out of good books to read, damnit.(Janet)
I didn't talk to him today. I hate it when I don't talk to him. And I hate that I hate it. The longest we've gone without talking (since he came home, anyway) was a week. Not that long ago, either. And it was the hardest damn thing I've ever done. And it took him over a week to notice. Bastard.
Sometimes I wish I were a boy.
I have to ask Daddy tomorrow how to rig this shit up so it'll log all the IPs that look at it. What a pain in the ass. Since Mr. Comment Man came along I'm wondering just who else might be peeking in every so often. And, of course, there's Kevin. I do believe he'll leave it alone, he just wanted that one big old... whatever it was. And I guess it doesn't really matter... but like I said, I'd rather know, because it'll just start to feel wierd if I'm writing for an audience. The number of people that read this are so few (all two of you... maybe three, sporadically) that it really is like I'm writing these like letters to myself. And that's how it's supposed to be. For me, anyway. What a pain in the ass.
heh, 'nother dizzy spell. Makes typing feel funny.
I keep dreaming about him. I don't usually dream about people. And never more than once in a row. Odd dreams. Some of them I kind of get... but some of them are just bizarre. It's a measure of how deep in I am that he's so in my sub-concious. It's... disconcerting, sometimes.
And still it amazes me that through that much confusion and bad shit... through all that... when I'm just still, and thinking about him, just him, mind you, and not any of the other stuff, just him. I smile. Involuntarily. How many times have I said that in the last ten entries? lol. But it never stops amazing me. It never stops catching me off-gaurd either.
It's cold in here. And my blankets are calling me.
More useless circles.
This night, these stars, they shine for you
This night, in love, I'll see you through
I'll tell the night, it'll hold you close
I'll whisper the stars, you whisper the ghosts
We'll watch them dance, the night is ours
We'll keep us safe in the little hours
If you hold me now we can melt away
If you ask me... don't; you know I'll stay