A new year but things are strangely the same...yet still different. We had the drunken sex again, I stayed too long in his bed again, and I have to choke chain my stupid feminine heart from getting all worked up about things that are going to probably be ignored and denied and pretended against,again. But it's working. I don't know how exactly but maybe a year of this back and forth cyclical stuff has cut some of the urgency out. My natural inclination is to blow up every incident to amazing or tragic proportions. Some of that has washed away while traveling through the phases of love and hate, work and sloth, self improvement and self destruction though.
I do worry a little bit about him though. Well not about him so much, but his mental state regarding all this. It's a slippery, scary slope for everyone I think, and he's got a darkroom at the bottom that I've peaked into but by far have not seen much of. For some reason it only registers when I make the move, at least on the outside, because it's not like we talk about it. It's all shadows and secrets, which as a whole I am fine with, but innate curiosity-killed-the-cat traits always keep me searching, digging, and peering around corners.
