My Funny Valentine

In Florida, wishing the soaps were on, but news coverage interrupting about the protests around returning that little boy to his father in Cuba.

I told B about New Year's Eve-- the truth-- and I had to. I think I really hurt him and he says he forgives me, but I can only hope that he can really understand... that this is all about what he said to me... how that devastated me... and still does.

I haven't really been able to eat or sleep very much and while I knwo that I don't want to break up with him, it scares me how much all of this still hurts...

I struggle with all of my might against the urge to die at every moment... except for the pounding blur of color and night and power and confidence and pride (perhaps too much) and immortality that I had that night. Thank God for drugs. And my every wish and every dream is to find that experience with B, but he can not give that to me. He can not. And maybe I am foolish for ever having thought that he could.

And I love him SO much. More than I can explain. And I know that he loves me in the same way. But, I wonder if this damage can ever be undone... And I know that I just have to see him. And at least, then, we can begin. But now it is all in the abstract.

My Funny Valentine.