5:37 p.m. - July 26, 2003
I'm obfuscating my head as we speak regarding Spec and this emotional seesaw with splinters aggravating my ass. I know he hasn't changed, I know this deep down but I want to hope and that want has pushed aside everything, all the strobe lights and worries, all the thoughts from those of you who read my journal. There's a part of me that wants to fix what was broken between Spec and myself, as if I can stand back and proclaim I'm healthy, I'm okay, I can develop and maintain a healthy gay relationship, I'm okay, see!, an admission that would surely banish the bogeyman forever and I could finally say I'm in control.
Somebody who has my back (is that right, Twids?), that's what I want. Not because it means solitude ends and I join the Happy Party but because it signals I trust someone, anyone, more than one, many, instead of having to always be on guard. No more on guard, that's what I want. It means much more to me than I can articulate, to walk down from the crow's nest and say, I'm here.
It saddens me to think this is unrealistic.