2009-07-18 - 11:33 p.m.
I cried today on the porch, and He held me.
The second man in the whole world to hold me while I cried. Not even my father has that distinction.
As usual, I was crying about a million tiny molehills that had lumped themselves together into a mountain.
He didn't seem impatient or awkward or angry. And his voice... His wonderful fucking voice.
Oh Jesus...
I never meant to say anything that I said to him. I never wanted him to know, even get a fleeting glimpse, about just how fucked up I am.
"Why are you being so secretive?"
"Because I'm afraid to open up to you."
"Why?"
"Because I don't want you to think badly of me."
And then that voice came, with what sounded like compassion and anger and sadness and pity all together. I can't remember word for word what he said but it was something that completely undid me.
Oh Jesus. This can't go on.