Texts On Deck

Texts on deck

I’m still going through old texts; I have a ton to share.

I have avoided capturing my responses thus far.  In all frankness, they are humiliating. I wish it wasn’t me.  It doesn’t really feel like me. However, it was me. Part of healing is forgiving yourself (mon dieu), and I don’t think I’ll be able to do that unless I release them.

Depresh has consumed me since looking through these things, so I am barely keeping up with essentials.  I can’t release anything right now.  But I will, periodically.

This is me being brave.

Flashback

I have an astonishingly clear memory of one of the days where I went to help him rebuild the basement. I stood at the top of the stairs much longer than usual. I was willing myself to go down.

I did so by telling myself I was okay with the prospect of never coming back up.

I belong to a local community theatre organization. It's given me the opportunity to meet some really lovely people

One member with whom I get along quite well is a psychology professor at the University in my city. I really enjoy her company; she's a genuine, sweet person.

I told him about her a few times in passing, but he really perked up when he found out what she did for a living.

" Now it makes sense. You understand why she's interested in talking to you, right? She recognizes that something's wrong with you..."

Gay culture is wishing you could go all the way back and be yourself from the beginning

Here’s a weird one

He insists that I had an “accent” the night I met him.  He swears I put one on to entrap him ( he’s a sucker for a foreign accent? - how would i have even known that at this point???) 

This never happened.

Many nights I wonder how I survived this.

Some nights I don’t feel like I should have.