August 31, 2002
Roar
Last night Mike and I sat on his bed and talked for three hours.
It was good.
Candles were flickering, and we alternated between being in eachothers arms to sitting up, indian style, knees touching and faces inches apart as we spoke of the future, of the past, of our parents, of our fears. Of South Park.
It is almost wholly unbelievable to me that I have only been with him for two months. He voiced the same concern last night. It just seems... like forever. I keep telling myself that things with Mike are different, and I begin to believe it. Can it be? Am I just fooling myself? Is this instinct, or desire?
Sometimes I feel like I can't trust anyone. Sometimes I feel like I have severe issues I need to work with, the by-product of my parents manipulative lectures and the lying bastard that was Ryan.
It upsets me that they were right about him. It makes me wonder. It makes me worry.
Could they be right again?
I never talked to Ryan for three hours. I never just laid in Ryan's arms. It was always the pre-requisite to something more, to being undressed, to being driven.
Is Mike just a better liar?
I upset him. I told him I couldn't trust him, that I'd heard it all before. He just looked at me, pursing his lips.
"It'll take time."
It will.
Mom and Dad are disappointed in me. Is it fair? Is it right?
Especially considering I have yet to do the thing that they so fear I will do?
"I just keep telling myself that with you things are different, but how do I know if it really is?"
He puts his arms around me, speaking softly into my ear. I can feel his cool cheek against mine.
"Do you want to slow down?"
I sigh.
"Yes. No. I don't know."
I think I will try. If only to make it sweeter in the end. I believe he is the right person for me. I believe he is the person for me. Scary. Ridiculous. I see the foolish-girl in the back of my mind, I see the mistakes she may make.
I just can't believe that he could be one of them.
I've said it all before. I've read it all before. I know who I was, I know, at least to some degree, who I am.
This is him. This is Mike. This is someone whose face lights up when he sees me, someone who indulges me, someone who sings along.
This is not Ryan. This is not.
Even when you don't take me into consideration, even if there were no relationship to speak of, Mike is a good person. In his own sphere of existence, with his own motives only, he is a good person.
And that is significant.
astera at 11:42 a.m.