When I was a kid, my family was Roman Catholic. Okay, they still are, but are a lot more relaxed. One of the rituals of the church is an act of contrition: You've done something wrong, against the laws of God, and you have to make it right somehow. Usually that involves prayer, fasting or some act of charity or something else to show you're truly sorry for what you've done.
I felt really low last night after having hurt my Love. And I want to make it right. But being so far away, there's no real way I can show her how truly sorry I am. So I write this as part of my act of contrition. If I had known how much was truly at stake - beyond just partners and such - I would have kept my mouth shut tighter than Fort Knox.
I'm not used to being closeted. I've never had to be. I'm still learning. I talked to some friends today who helped me cope with the emotions involved in it. They gave me some insight into how to deal with the shit in my own head and from now on, I'll try to be better.
This is my promise to you, my Love, that I'll never again fuck up in that big of a way. The thought of losing you forever scared the hell out of me. The thought of losing you ever scares me. I wish I could give you all the things you want and need - alas, I lack the proper tackle and lure to do so. My primary goal in life is to see that you're happy. I want you to be happy. And if it means swallowing my own issues to do so, I gladly will.
I am yours so long as you'll have me, hopefully forever. -Squeaky
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