ryman

Finally pausing to catch breath, late night listening to a tape of sad old country songs that somebody made me years ago. I can't even remember who....
which is my other secret for the day. I don't have many left, but they're in there somewhere. Like a friend told me once, my depths have surprising shallows.
A few weeks ago I was lying in bed telling another somebody about all of this, holding her hand and feeling more naked than I tend to let myself get. all of the stupid little facets of *me* that I tend to keep to myself there to be seen. It felt like she knew everything else, and that's all that there was left to tell, if that makes any sense at all.
She knew all my fuck-ups and the stupid irrationalities that drive me: I didn't have to pretend (most people don't even realise that I am doing it) and she didn't run away then.
but now she maybe has and I don't quite know why and that's making me sadder than I can tell. And for all my talk i don't know what to do now.

So drown it in a sea of hot chocolate and sleep tight and hope. all of that.

the things to look forward to:
birthday on sunday: Indian food and beer and trying to get everyone in the same room at the same time, and trying not to freak out too much about getting OLD.
xoxoxox r

I really need to change that picture.