Created on 3/22/01 from a letter written to Kate.
Response 2020.07.14
I'm writing this at about 8:30 AM. I got to bed about two. So, not a lot of sleep. I woke up at about 7:45, because I had to go to the bathroom. But I couldn't get back to sleep because I kept thinking about Kate. And no, not in a chipper good way but in that sad way which makes me cry like I was mourning for her before she died.
Last night at the drama awards, outside by the railing, she affected me more than she knew. Part of her - rather, most of her at this point - views sex and sexuality as dirty and wrong. At least, nothing she wants to do right now. Even with me, the man who has pledged to wed her and who loves her endlessly. To me, I think you know, it is mostly a pure and good thing. In general, no. Just with Kate.
The world's portrayal of it revolts me. Based just on that, I'd loathe sex. With Kate, to me, it is transcendental. But that is not the point of the entry (Not that I think I have one). Just that I suddenly got very sad and upset. However, I do think I am handling this in a far more mature and loving fashion then being an asshole like I was before (And I will take a long time to forgive myself for that.)
I want her to remember only me. Not in an egotistical way. Just that, save a few incidents (Which, no, I do not forgive), sexuality between us has never been purity. It has been making love. It has been the ambrosia of the senses and the heart.
So when she gets that look - like she’s fallen down a dark hole and is lost - about prior stuff (not that she isn't entitled to, for she is), I get very sad. Not depressed, just sad. It makes me want to touch her face and tell her I can make it better. But can I?
We've been quite serious for ten months. She has helped me work through so much of my emotional baggage. And for that, she simple does not know how thankful I am to her. But what have I done for her? Have I made it pure in her eyes? I don't think so. She still looks lost and scared when it comes to sexual stuff. It just worries me emotionally. I want to fix it, but don't know how.
Furthermore, she said a few nights ago that she had serious issues with sex. But she refused to disclose them to me. That hurt me a lot. That was why I was irked at her yesterday before the awards. I was expecting that she was going to leave me over her hang-ups. I stopped being irked when I ascertained that she was okay and barely remembered saying it. But she did say it, and I do want to know. As soon as she is ready.
I love her. For anyone else, I could not adequately deal with these issues. One of the reasons I didn't want to be with Tina (aside from that I didn't really like her in that way) was her drug usage. But for her, it is the only thing I can do. True, it took me months. But I fought all manners of horrid demons inside myself, and only a few are left. And the remaining demons know their days are severely numbered.
I just don't want her to have to go through what I went through. I would hate that. She shouldn't have to, because she is an overwhelmingly good person.
But I fear she is delicate. Which sounds nice, but isn't. I don't want her to break. It elicits all manners of powerful feeling inside me when she weeps, and I can't always control them. I know that she is as emotional as I am. I get confused. If I can't make myself feel better, what hope do I have for her? My brain was addled with stupid questions as I lie in my bed, most of which I know the answers to. They were not angry, accusatory questions. They were just sad.
Who she was scares me. I scanned the picture of her from the ID card onto the page. Then I looked as to when it was taken when I named it.
I was happily typing along when I realized my face was wet. I was honestly confused. Was I sweating? No, I was crying. I was crying because THAT was what she looked like in tenth grade, the year when so much negative happened. She looked so sweet and beautiful. She looks like she should still be on the playground and still think kissing is icky. Why did it all happen? Why was she so beautiful when it all happened? Was there a point where she would have just said, "No more, this isn't me. This isn't how it should be." Or, rather, when did this point come to her?
That's not really the point. The point is, I cried because of a picture of her from tenth grade. Because, I guess, it makes me sad to know that she had to go through all of this. I just want to know how I can help her deal, like she has helped me so graciously. I want her to know that I will always be her crying shoulder and that I love her in a way I cannot define.