Wow, look at all the dust around here.
I've been struggling with the purpose of this place, it seems the need for release or reconstruction of history to protect my weak and shallow ego has abated. Not that anything significant has changed; I'm a mistake driven, blind to self sheteed (pronounced as Chappelle did for "shit head"). Just ask Girlfriend for Life and see the knowing chuckle and turn of the head. God, I hate it when I'm right.
She's so goddamn honest I know I'm better off talking myself into doing what I know she would tell me to do if I asked. A lot of times in this world you run into people who are one hundred percent honest about half of the story or half honest about the whole, I'm one hundred percent guilty of each crime and of the blind eye to myself. But the calm, funny, withering honesty with which she lives is something worth believing in. And maybe this author is finally unconcerned with putting on a show for anonymous readers or telling half a story regarding events I can't change or resolve anyway.
Girlfriend for Life and I have been together for nearly six years. Each passing month gets better; I become a little more open and unafraid because of her. I've had some moments of living this way, but often my own actions and fears sabotaged the potential future of remaining open and honest. Everyone wants to matter and be healthy, but the depressed are a little more egotistically introspective than is healthy or honest, among other things.
I'm married to someone much smarter than me and she splain's it to me, sans bullshit. A few months after we first met she told me she loved me more than a tiny puppy, with a perfect emoticon ending a perfectly timed confession at the perfect time of my life. Shakespeare's question- only her because of her-has been answered. I submit, but not often or completely enough and don't ask her any questions; I'm the one who won't like the answers.