He wasn’t the shadow of an idea; he was the light that cast shadows on everyone that came before him.

Today I had this very clear picture of me opening up my self as though I were a box with a lock, and wanting to pour everything out. To say, “here, you made it, my words are yours now, my secrets revealed, everything is shared” — To me this is the ultimate trust. The last barrier brought down, and so willingly. Not to be asked — I offered. 

Still… I don’t know his stories. It’s a matter of preference I guess. He doesn’t think about it maybe. Or if he does he doesn’t reveal it. While for me telling the tales of how things existed before him — filling in the details so his imagination doesn’t magnify simple realities, is a show of trust, for him, it’s something of a threat. 

No not a threat. that’s the wrong word. I guess I understand how he feels uncomfortable with the idea of  me , at some point being someone else’s… With me it’s different. It’s what he omits that bothers me. The missing bones in the skeleton of his history. Who came when and why did they leave? What was felt? — I want to know all that happened… I want to read him, and I want to know him, to me it’s important. And I wouldn’t be hurt or jealous because I know what it is to have loved and what it means to have been wrong…. 

I am not comfortable with his silence about the past. I don’t fear that he’s hiding something, but I wish I could know.

Meanwhile he has a special advantage. My public broadcast of my (outermost)feelings has been at his reach from an early day. He can see, even without my knowing, out-of-context snippets of my life. Further, I gladly volunteer information so that he has a full understanding of me.

I decided not to be ready to give him my book of secrets. You can’t tell your life to someone who won’t tell you theirs.

Maybe it’s too soon.

Still, I feel good knowing that he is the first person I’ve felt compelled to just pour out, and break down all the obstacles , and let myself be vulnerable…. it will just be a matter of time.