And I love you for that.
This is all going to be hard to say. These things need to be understood, they need to be released so that they can stop.
I've been someone's secret for three years. Not the same person, but it's always someone. Someone has always called me friend when I should be called something else, someone has always had to sneak to use the phone to call me. Maybe it has been better because of that, but I can't live with it anymore.
In writing things down, I thought I could have relationships with people that were open, completely. Where there was an equal amount of sharing. I assume, always, that everyone operates with the same motivations as I do. I think everyone feels this way, everyone throws everything on the line. But it seems I never get anything but indifference.
And so very recently. Seven hours ago, I decided that it was time to say good bye to someone who showed me that I should expect something other than a cool response. The first person to really tell me this was going some where, so much, he couldn't figure out why I paint, instead of write. So I knew, when I sat down here at this chair, I was writing to him about someone else. I was telling him everything, he was my confession wall before I even knew that's what was happening.
I don't think many people know what it's like to find someone who can read between the lines. And, this isn't new to me, but I can't figure out why it hurts so bad. Because I knew we were never going to sit on the living room floor, and I would never be able to tell him everything that I would never have to because he already knew.
I'm positive he's not going to come back to see this. I'm sure he meant what he said when he said good bye. I know that was the right thing to do, under the circumstances.
I like to think he would have given me anything he could, truthfully, I don't know because I can't ask.
Long ago, I said my life was Veedon Fleece. Long ago, I was wrong. Veedon Fleece is his life. You should hear it in my house, now that the furniture is gone. It sounds like a concert hall, and this morning I would swear Van is in the living room.
Your heart has this amazing capacity, when you push its limits. Because all of this happened, and the whole time, I felt the same about everything else.
I'm not done with this, not by a long shot.