confession: i have every reason to feel happy and only one reason to feel unhappy and that one reason could ruin an hour, a day, a week, a life if i let it. i tell myself i won’t let it. your version, whatever it may be, please don’t let the one reason for unhappiness trump all the other reasons for feeling happy.
confession: we argue (debate) about music. he’s more invested in that debate than i am. with one exception, don’t kid about freddie mercury. i will drop your ass if you imply anything less than greatness when freddie’s name enters the conversation.
confession: the disadvantage of washing my filthy car is that i found two places on the back bumper where somebody else’s car “kissed” my paint off. until this afternoon i didn’t know my dirty bumper was missing paint from other cars bumping their ugly grills into my car’s cute ass.
confession: she assured me that it happened overnight. one day i had it. the next day i didn’t. she said it happens like that to everyone but happened harder to me because i had more to begin with.
confession: she’s prettier than i am. but she probably thinks the same thing about me. or not, because she might be more vain than i am. or prettier.
confession: she and i agree that intimacy around sex is more interesting than intimacy during sex.
confession: she always asks about dicks. she came to dicks later in life. dicks intrigue her. they are less intriguing to me because they are less mysterious to me.
confession: when there are no frozen peas, frozen broccoli will suffice. i nursed her injured eye with frozen broccoli while we discussed dicks, sex, and intimacy.
confession: i confessed to her the real stuff, the ugly stuff, the vulnerable stuff, the slimy dark slick spots in my soul. i’d tell you, too, if you loved and accepted me unconditionally and could hear that darkness without judgment or reaction.
confession: i told him the truth. my truth isn’t what he wants. what he wants doesn’t matter to me anymore.
confession: it is easier to tell the complete truth when i have no investment in the other’s reaction.
confession: we decided that our experience of fear is simply the pre-brave jitters. we are brave. we are bold. bravely, boldly telling the truth protects us from betraying ourselves and others.