Life moves fast, but the hardest part about writing daily is that this blog is anonymous and my life is not.

Snuggled next to a dog at the other end of the sofa from me is FM, who has become among my best friends, my occasional lover, and the person I fight with the most… often publicly. We also live together, or, rather, he sleeps in my guest room/library.

Last October, some of my accounts were hacked into — unsuccessfully — and it was because of FM. Someone obsessed with him wanted to know our conversations. It’s actually insane, but it happened.

At that point, I stopped publishing regularly. More and more of my life has become public and the balance of the anonymity I need to work through what I do here weighed against the fact some of you know who I am makes my writing here more complicated.

I was trying to explain to FM, drunkenly, at 330 am following a horrible Friday night how important this journal is to me. We were mid-fight outside about the feelings I was experiencing after bumping into LP randomly at the “it” bar in town and I was sort of awful to him for about 15 seconds and now i think we are done. (Again.)

I was trying to explain to FM the epic tale of my relationship of fits and starts with LP and I realized I should be writing about it rather than talking about it.

Essentially, you all have our history and understand, at least a little, why I’ve never ever fully let him go.

There is too much to say, and I am going to try to be better about saying it here.

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