i've been dreaming every night about dexter and his dad and it's fucking getting to me. it hurts me, i wake up in a cold sweat, arms around him so tight i'm surprised i'm not squeezing him to death. he hates that i think about his father sometimes, or that i believe it to be a part of my life. i think he just wishes i'd forget about it and never ask about it or mention it again. but i can't. the nightmares won't let me, and i just can't.

but i'll be okay. i really will. i think D will be too. he's stronger than he knows. he's smarter too. much stronger and much smarter than i am. immeasurably more creative too. but enough aggrandization of the boyfriend. i love him, i guess that's what i'm trying to say. sometimes it comes out as more of a scream and a curse, but sometimes we both say it nice and soft like we should, and we've been doing that more often than not lately. and that makes me feel right.

i thought i was quitting the diary, but for some reason i can't convince myself it's worth it. it seems like that would just validate the cunt's efforts at intimidation, or whatever it is he's trying to get at. i still can't bring myself to go back through and make public all the entries, and i don't really want to either. they were available for a long time, and if you didn't get them yet, you probably never had any interest in seeing them anyway. [if i'm wrong, i'll e-mail you a downloaded entire diary, just send me an e-mail.]

i'm getting ready to sleep now, it's getting late. dexter and i have been playing riven for hours now, and we're both getting groggy. his friend is staying with us for another night, and it's cool, because she's nice, even if she does prevent us from exploring each other in new and improving ways which i'll refrain from mentioning in specific terms. but honestly... actually, i don't think i want to write that down. you never know who you can trust anymore. that's what i seem to have learned from my diary-commenter's act.