I went to the lake this weekend with... damn, I don't remember her pseudo-name, and I'm too lazy to look... Katie, maybe? The best friend. Anyways, we drove up to the lake and decided to bury ourselves in the first season of Lost (a fabulous show, by the way. Check it out if you havent.)

It was a really weird weekend for me. I guess the simplistic explanation is that Katie and I are having a rough time in the friends department. To say that we're growing apart is probably too extreme, but we're clashing on so many different levels. If I stop to scrutinize, I can't figure out why we're friends at all. We watch TV and eat. When we stop to talk, one of three things happens:
1) Someone gets upset
2) Someone closes down
3) We both end up crying and wallowing in self-pity.

So none of the options are really good for me. But I still love her. Inexplicably, unjustifiably, unconditonally.

I learned (concretely, anyways) something about myself this weekend. I had always assumed that all of my close relationships were dependent upon physical contact. But this weekend I felt how much I lost without it. I could feel Katie getting creeped out when I touched her. She insists that the gay thing doesnt bother her and that it's totally 'insignificant,' but her actions/words suggest otherwise. So I stopped touching her. And I hated it. Apparently, it's something I need to do. I've never felt such emptiness before--- i told her I needed to stop touching her because it creeped her out (we were in her bed) and her response was "no it doesnt," then she pretty much rolled over and fell asleep.

ALL I needed her to do was squeeze my hand for a second. To back up her words. But she didn't, and I laid there crying for two hours. She didnt hear me, but I was in rough shape.

Over something totally insignificant. I need therapy.
i truly believe that.
A part of me thinks that I only like Bailey because, in my mind, being around her seems as though it would be therapeutic. It probably wouldnt be though. her presence would probably wear me out more than anything else, but what can I say... I'm attracted to all things damaged.

I understand why gay kids commit suicide.
No worries, I never would.
But I get it. I can relate to that.

Before, being sad was at least attached to a sense of identity.
Now it's arbitrary and intimidating and weird and scary.
I wish I hadn't come out.
Because you sure as fuck can't go back into that closet.
I MISS THE CLOSET.