realizations come so fast.
dear r---,
it's growing, this strange fascination with enlightenment, this tugging pull toward momentum. And it's growing. Not just growing. Growing painful. Resistance.
My resolve, something so often a source of pride, has molded into something flimsy, a fragile ting, subject to the power of how exactly I'm allowed to seek you each day.
my sturdy resolve in hanging in the rafters of your will, swinging like a broken powerline.
here's the deal. My will, my resolve, my self control -- it will crack next time I am as close to you as I was last night. it will shatter and glass fragments of my will will shower down like snow.
consider this your warning. you can't. you can't just let me touch you like that, share your body heat, you can't do that and expect me not to think about it and bring it up the next day.
or maybe you can, and I just have to learn to deal with it.
I think I'm starting to want you more than I'm ready to admit. did I really start this game?
// transcriptions of road blocks and progress.
"good morning. sleep well?"
"I -- oh, hell, what time is it?"
"We slept through church."
"No. Oh, fuck. Why did I let you stay?"
"You didn't, really."
"Right. Why aren't you gone?"
"Because I'm comfortable. Or was. Lie back down, will you?"
"No, I will not. I'm not comfortable with this."
"See seemed pretty damn comfortable with it. Do you have to be so -- "
"Please. Stop. The only reason I let you stay is so we wouldn't get caught. It was not an invitation to touch me or to kiss my neck or -- or -- oh, fuck, did all that really happen?"
"Yep. It did."
"I -- I don't -- Get out."
"What?"
"Get ut. You said you'd be gone before I woke up, and you're not, so get ut."
"You must be kidding."
"Why would I kid?"
"Something must've changed. You were -- "
"I was tolerant. Nothing else. Get out."
These types of thoughts don't make doing homework any easier.