I don't know why I stopped writing.  I re-read what I wrote, that one thing I stress about is that I don't want to burden my friends with my fucking problems.  Well, that's why I write.  I had my old blog Epiphany to get me through the rough years, why not write more?  I'm not making myself any promises, but just writing that previous entry was good, and it made me want to keep going.  When I get writing, I always feel like I have so much to say, that it's just bubbling out of me.

So, with the tank and armor thing, Nancy nearly quoted Irv.  When I was younger, I was that tank.  Just going and going fully armored, nothing could hurt me.  I drank and fucked and fought, and went around filled with anger.  Irv was the first person to get inside those walls.  Like, he was the first person that didn't take me at face value.  He called me "little girl" and "sweetie" which...in those days I definitely was no sweetie. He still calls me those things. Something between him and parenthood had me take the walls down entirely.  And now I'm reverting to that old behavior "armed and armored".  I somehow think I don't need anyone, and people fucking suck anyway.  Which...is not untrue. But it's also not healthy.

I touched on how when I met Irv, I was in pretty bad shape, but he was stable and good.  She asked if he was the one that influenced me to clean up, and...no, that was Tom.  So, we talked about Tom a bit, and I fucking lost it, because I never talk about him. Ever. I lost it because of where the world is now, and whenever I accidentally remind myself that he's not in it, I cry.  He would love smartphones, and look where we're at on the transgender issues?  He'd be thriving.  I miss him, a lot.  I miss his wit, and his smile, and his voice.  I miss his companionship. I miss his hugs. I am writing this, now, having a good old selfish sappy cry.  Just, I fucking miss him.  I haven't seen him in dreams lately either.  I usually get a good one every few months, and it's like seeing and old friend.