You called me your angel.
Normally I'd laugh but you're it, girl.
You're even better.
You expressed your love.
You said I was the one sane point in your life.
You care so much for me.
I don't care what the "mean" voice says.
This is so real.
God I love you.

Here's my woeful wank...

I would have loved in that moment to have melted and melded with her. Oh, how tired that line must be from its overuse! Something… Something… Her back was warm. I slept with my forehead bent and pressed between her shoulder blades, some altar of some foregone mythology left behind to mystify and convince the non-believer. Something… Something… Her hair was soft. I fought with myself to keep from touching her, always wanting my fingers lost along the way from lips to neck. Something… Something… Her hands were strong. I know that she warred, yes, but those magnificent hands were extensions of God himself. Something, something, something… Adjectives escape me and adverbs wreak havoc on the sensible, smart side of me – the side that makes peace with illogic with pretty boxes and iron-clad ribbons. How long would my chance encounters be fodder for yet more maddening mental meanderings? “Get it down,” the mind says. “Get it down so that you can accurately remember it all.” It was something to tell the grandchildren if they ever came. “Listen, mes précieux, listen while I tell you of this one time…”

I wanted to crawl inside and know just the roads that were available, to close my eyes and pretend that I was the one running along the nerve endings. “No, no, no!” the soul cries. “You’ve done it. You’ve done it all over again! Why?” And so is the sound of my own voice, so is the sound of ever rustling trees and lives and things that never do quite make sense. My god… What were these things inside of me? What were these things that pushed me to my brink? I cry out now so silently… “Listen, mon précieux, listen while I tell you of this one time…”

The body begs for redemption; the mind begs to be locked away. “Still yourself… Ever so quietly now… Shh… Be quiet, sleep…” But sleep is forever ruined. Sleep is for saints and saviours. Pardoning… pardoning fire… rebirth… rejoice… relive, remember… forget.

Something… Something… “Listen… Listen while I tell you of this one time…”

Lovely weekend. Absolutely lovely. I saw girl on Friday after I cashed my check and went over to where she's crashing. We talked about the apartment we're looking for; she showed me some of her favorite youtube vids; I did her makeup for work. Went to Wal-Mart after and picked up her v-day gift and left a note saying that whatever keeps her away from the Town of Hell, the better. She txts me Saturday, says to meet her. She gives me a card that I didn't expect and takes me to lunch. Sickeningly cute stuff. I tell her I emailed her a note. More on that later.

Sunday I msg her early in the am and she invites me to church. Cool. I can do this. Why not? We go, it's not bad, and we've decided to go back next weekend. She drops me off at my car and I leave her with a song on her iPod. She comes back home with me an we're hanging out in my room, lounging, talking. I just get to touch her, feel her skin. We talk the whole time, being honest and open. I get to kiss her as much as I like. I tell her she's soft; she says she's never heard that. Soon time is over and she has to leave. I'm sat behind her, my arms wrapped over her and she leaned into me. It's perfect. She wishes she could cry. I love the way she grabs my shirt when she's leaving to kiss me.

I send her a msg when I first wakeup waxing poetic. She doesn't think it's weird. She takes it and enjoys it. I am happy; she cries. She tells me not to feel bad for looking for my place in this universe as she is doing and with me. My heart is bubbling over. She is my muse. I want her in my bed for a lifetime. She's beautiful. She's amazing. She's everything I've been looking for.

So yes... The note. I emailed her telling her how wonderful I think she is and how she makes me feel alive. She tells me that she's happy for me and that some of my practices reminds me of her ex and how she is scarred badly from it. I'm torn between being gutted and keeping faith. Still... I have to be honest with her and tell her how scared I am of the whole thing, just as she is. She mentions that, as she says, mathematically she can give herself up no earlier than June, maybe May. I can understand that. I'm willing to wait as long as it takes. Most people, I'd think they were pushing me away. Not her; I know she has to protect herself. There are people in this world that want to hurt her and that have. I have to prove that I won't. I'm willing to to push myself to the limits of my patience if it means that the bonus to my happiness is with me.

It's exciting and strange, frightening and new. I told her I want to try my hand at getting sober. I want to try my hand at not self-injuring. I want to try to be the person that she sees in me. No one has ever seen in me what she has. She's so special to me.

I want to share my happiness with my dad because, oddly enough, I normally do with him but I know he'll tell me, "But I thought you weren't like that anymore." Oh, you mean into girls. Yes, dad, I am. I love everyone. And wrote that in my hc journal. I could not believe in god if he would condemn this. There is no justice and fairness if God would damn my soul to hell for being happy and if such happiness would send me to the fiery depths then I will gladly dance with the devil himself. She means that much to me. My mom said, "It's weird... The best man you ever found was a woman." Indeed Ma... Indeed.

I'm such a writing fiend lately. I disappear for three years only to return an write my ass off. Fair enough, Brisus. Fair e-damn-nough...

I should be studying for my NT class. Umm... Yeah...

I have a fuck ton of LJs and entries to go thru. My god... I wish I was a lot more....... open? IDK. Less afraid of my thoughts in time? Hmm... I just don't know.

My inner whatever is telling me that I need to run far, far away. Run as far away as possible, stay very quiet, and basically turn into some church mouse. I have no idea why but I'm suddenly very anxious and afraid. I want to lock everything up very tightly. I want to shut down. I want everything tied up neat and nice and not make a sound. I don't know why this has hit me so suddenly. Paranoia, perhaps. Insecurity, maybe. It's like my brain is telling me to move very slowly, to keep to myself and pull inwards and pay attention to what I'm thinking. I'll call it my "look". I remember it bittersweetly from high school. It was the look I had on my face after a long night of angels and blue pills. I couldn't speak. I couldn't really move. I only stared wide eyed and blankly. That's me right now. I'm fighting my need to lock myself away...

I travel the curve. I get the bends. Circles and arcs... waves and kisses... goodbye, hello, hell no, god yes.

God, yes.

Senseless. Maybe I will lock a few things up. For my safety of course.

I think I may have discovered something about myself. Damn...