c.e,

When you hear a name or a word you instantly connect to an image, a sound, a smell, or even a long line of words strung together haphazardly in your extensive bank of memories. I hear yours and lately my mind has been redirected to combative masculinity, I sleep with you at night in the form of wearing your shirts, it's like I'd rather have this form of you than to be with you in person. The idea of you is more conducive. I feel guilty because when I have talked about you lately I have taken such a tone that makes me ill, and I hate myself for it. You have no knowledge of any of this and I'm thankful. I am dishonest, and I have prided myself for years on being able to unwillingly always tell the truth, but I think this is the one time that I will lie and carry it around always. What I did was wrong, there are no excuses and to think about you committing this act would induce such unfathomable rage. I am a hypocrite, but I feel like this month will have soon melted away with the rest of this winter's snow. I can start anew, I can make it up to you, unknowingly. I just looked at my cell phone and there was a note. I put it there after a long day spent with you over a cup of coffee and winter's leftovers. I want to really feel for real, it shouldn't matter anyway. The only person I have been hiding from is myself.