I realise how strange this is
I felt so badly for Clay. Loving someone who is dead when you never really got to grasp the love quite in the first place, must be one of the greatest tortures there is.
I'm sitting outside pets at home now, waiting for my boss to get here, reading your post.
Okay, I'll play:
No, he doesn't know. This is my safe haven, I can be and do who and what I like. He forbid me from talking to you. He nearly didn't let me keep your book. I loved the pictures inside, I use them as bookmarks in my journal and various books.
He feels you have nefarious intentions and might bring me back to the place I've literally just crawled out of for the first time in my life since my depression began.
He's had to deal with a lot of nights where I'm in tears and don't know why. I was really losing my grip again before my medication began to work, but I swear I am better now. I feel like my soul is free and open these days instead of weighed down like before.
I don't know why we keep doing this, we always gravitate towards one another. Isn't it strange?