I've been rereading Curtis's diary. Everything he's put there (at least that I can see) I've already read, day by day. But going back and reading it over all at once is intense. Too intense. Like sex and pain and everything all at once. But wonderful. It makes me want to say things I'm afraid to say, which means I have to say them. That's my rule, right? It's a rule I stopped following soon after I decided on it. But now that I'm not horrible-evil-twin-me anymore, I think I should start enforcing it again.

So here's what it makes me want to say. Good Lord. I know this is going to sound trite, but I'm fantastically lucky to know him. To know him and to be part of his life. Such a close part. I'm lucky to have him trust me. To be let in. I love this, what we are, how I am with him. I love it so much it's hard to talk about. He can say things when I can never say things. He's wonderful like that. And all I can do is grin, and laugh, and try to catch my breath, and tell him how I love him, and I always wish I could say more. Because there's so much more.

I really shy away from saying this bit, because I know how it can sound. I never say it about anything, but honestly, I thank God for this. What we have. It's one of the reasons I believe in God, and also one of the reasons I believe in people. There's no way the world would do these things if there weren't something steering it. So, from little old transcendentalist-Catholic-whatever me to you, God, thanks. Amen.

That sounds really pretentious. Oh well. Just because it sounds pretentious doesn't mean it isn't true.