The irony is that I know it's a good thing. He just won't stop using drugs and I'm unhappy the way things are. Am I doomed to always feel regret and sorrow?
He says that he wants to get his life cleaned up and have me fly out there in a few months. He wants me to see if I like Reno, enough to possibly move out there. Oh how I long to leave this place, but do I have the guts to do it? Am I just chasing a fleeting dream that's no more real than the fabrications of history I've created to keep people at a distance?
No one really knows me anymore...but I think Steven has seen most of it and it scares him. I think I'm too much for him.
I'm sitting here in the dark, as I usually am when I write such as this, tears glistening down my face, aching in my stomach and I'm fearful of the future. I have three weeks left to fill with memories. Three weeks spent in desperate need to not think.
Three weeks left.