But I have the best man to hold my hand.

I shit you not.

No matter how many times we fight, no matter how our sex life, our love life, our homelife, fails, no matter how often I think with my cock or he outsmarts me, no matter that we are illegal, no matter how equally brutal we can verbally be to each other, I believe we can be together forever.

It has been six months now, on Thursday. I am more in love with his heart, with his mind, with his body too, than I have ever been with a single person before, boyfriend of otherwise. Yes, I still miss Scott sometimes, but this relationship I'm in now, it makes me cry often 'cause I love him so fucking much.

I'm not willing to reveal much right now, for fear of arrest, pain, or publicity. But Dexter makes me think, feel and fight in ways I never though myself capable of. Not to sound too cheesy (which I am aware I have a tendency towards), but to say it simply: I am in love with Dexter. I couldn't give less of a fuck about the legality of our relationship, because I am as young as he is, and he is as old as I am, despite what the state of California tells me.

We have major problems with our sex life. But I don't want to talk about that right now. He is uncomfortable with his body. I have a hard time not feeling hurt by the changes in our lives, the different excuses, fears and false truths that we both believe and tell each other honestly. I love him. If I never fuck him ever again, I will still be happy in this relationship. Confused, yes - hurt, possibly - ashamed and saddened, yes - but it is worth it on so many other levels, and we will work it out too. I am sure of that. I am also sure we will be together for ever.

No lies.

I am mortified that I will not be able to kick the fentanyl. DRUGS SUCK. I keep thinking 'oh i could wait just one more day, one more patch, one fix, one rig, one cooker and one spike. I never told D how freaked I was about the drugs. I finally told him. I hope he understood.

I can only express this one way: I love Dexter. Not only his body, cock, armpits, smell, but his heart, his mind, his ability to impress me over the littlest things. I haven't been in love like this ever. He says similar things, and that makes me feel swell. I feel guilty sometimes, for wanting things I am not entitled to, but he makes me feel swell.

At any rate, I must go to the library to meet him. I'll try to write as soon as I can without being interrupted.

Love rocks.

I am a cheesy (but not sleazy, I think) boy.

Oh yeah, Ash played last night. They are my pre-teen crush band. I think Tim and Mark are so hot. But they didn't play Uncle Pat. They were good though, anyway. I had fun, almost creaming my pants when Tim raised him arms with his guitar over his head. (I am realizing every day that I have a serious armpit fetish. Is that gross? I think they are really hot. Licking, smelling, touching... Oh man is it hot.)