I do not feel like writing.

I do not feel like writing. I do not feel like cleaning. I do not feel like doing anything of any importance. The only thing I want to do I cannot do because I have injured my ankle. Our latest session with the counselor has peeled back a few more layers, and I'm not sure that I was ready for such exposure. I am tired. I feel emotionally spent and I feel like doors are closing all around me. Agreements are being made and I feel like I'm being held captive and signing on the dotted line because I'm tired and thirsty and I just want to get out. I don't know what's best, for us, for me, for him. I know what I want and I know that right now it's an impossibility.

People enjoy being around me because I'm carefree, because I'm honest, because I make them playful and honest with themselves. People love me because I fill them with joy and they know my caring is true and faithful. And yet as time goes on, when I expose what it is I need to remain carefree, it is too much to give to me. The worry, the anxiety, the pain, the insecurity all come crashing in with an unbearable weight. Attachment has settled in and I am grasped. My needs for exploration and a long, very long leash is often an impossibility because I have made it seem that the short leash is all that I need. My unerring faithfulness has blinded him to my desires for freedom. And when I pull back the sideblinders, he stands, kicking in fright, as the visual noise comes tumbling in around him -- all the dangers, all the blaring brightness that shrinks his pupils, constricts his veins and makes his heart beat as though death is on its way.

And then there's YoungMan's pain. With new circumstances on the horizon, a dark, shadowed cloud hovers over us. And the tears of heavy sky fall down all around us. We are marked. I want to peer into the future, simply to know what happens between us. One way or the other, I want to know so that we may have some sense of what to expect. Feelings are so strong, but will they remain? Can our connection truly stand the test of time? Can we pause for a day, a week, a month, a year? People change over time, and life journeys are transformed. What are the chances that who we are then will continue to beat in rhythm as we do now? But then there's also the magic of two people bumping along beside one another, who's footpaths weave in and out through trees, through meadows, along streams, and they are unaware of the other's presence, until one day it becomes obvious that they've travelled together for so long, have been together for so long. That magic is real, and I believe in it. It's rare, but it's real. I know I've experienced it, and I'm thoroughly grateful for those glimpses into the brightest clarity this life can offer.

I am not much of a religious person, but I believe that the closest thing to Divinity is being able to make contact with the innermost, genuine, and honest spirit-center of another person. I've always believed that various people enter your life for profound reasons, and all it takes is recognizing the pause between breaths to peer into and experience the sanctity within them. I do have faith that what's happening between me & H and me & YoungMan is for good reason. Absolutely there could have been better ways at getting to where we're headed, but this life is, after all, imperfect. Without those cracks and shadows, there would be no way of knowing that our blood pumps red, that our skin shivers cold, and that air travels through our lungs shaky and fast when we go to extreme lengths. Extremes that outline how fragile and how sacred our humanity truly is.