She said goodnight as she turned out the lights on his heart. Not quite all the way off, but it was pretty close. His heart has a dimmer switch, but she broke it. If you were watching closely and you could see the exact moment she moved it from bright shimmering orb to a small, dull, dying reflection of his pain. It was right after she said, We need to talk. He had donned his best pair of corduroy slacks, hoping she might notice, but he doesn't think she did. At least she didn't say she did and she normally comments about these things. She dropped the words like an atom bomb and now he's sitting in his walk-in closet crying like a baby.
13 July 2008
I was a very emotional 15 year-old
When I first discovered women rather late in life, I found the whole experience to be troubling and wrote a series of short vignettes about how miserable and confused I was: