’tis a loverly thought. a warm one.
im having one of those nights where i read poetry and my own writing and his writing and not His writing because im in the process of fucking this free will thing up and also proper grammar and punctuation. oh well.
i am excited and scared at the prospect of making you real again. i have been somewhat constantly aware of it, that you are not really a ‘person’ with quotes around him, but made of flesh and hair and a bonafide independent thinking soulmindheartthing. i knew that. i know that now. but it’s just… slightly overwhelming. and also i fear underwhelming. its my whole fantasy-reality dichotomy i wax on and on and off about. daniel son.
i hope against hope that somehow this leap i have said yes to twice and have yet to make because scared is going to be a good thing. that you won’t be disgusted and i will get to know some real validated truths that are concrete because they are shared. and very hopefully, those truths will be wonderful and not soul crushing bombs of fucked up directional love. because, damn, i am at a precipice maybe. and i don’t want to go over and into that group of ‘depressed young people’ because that’s shit and not shit and either way probably not a pleasant experience in the slightest.
i think im worthwhile in some respects. please think so too, in the same respects and in the sexy ways as well. at the very least, Alexandria. because, as many times as i said i was not, i still hope i was and am.