boomerang bang

Man, the post I started writing Saturday before our ride to mexican fast food breakfast was a bit dire, a bit depressing and a kind of sobering reflection on his drunk words. Like many of you, we don't have a perfect relationship, and he fucking drives me insane a lot of the time, and a lot of the time he loves me even though I am acting crazy. A dichotomous take on a duality we seem to possess in our relations to each other, I suppose. There have been a few times I have thought, fuck it, I deserve better, though those times aren't too many and are really not rooted in some absurd abusive situation in our relationship.

This man and I can talk about anyyyything and I am serious ANYTHING. I can count on his agreement on most matters of the heart, most matters of conscience because he does have the core of my heart and even cries sometimes when I am not--I mean the tears of joy for other people and moments of reflection I see him have sometimes. And he is smart as hell and keeps me calm when I am trying to bust apart ...