I wrote a private entry a little while ago. An entry that was a long time in coming and I'm going to finish the small saga very shortly in another entry after this. I am being an ass even saying this but I did something today that I needed to do; though I'm not particularly proud of it. Nothing horrible or anything; don't get the wrong idea. Just... yeah..

I'm sitting here on the couch; the futon that was Brent's bed last year. Smokey is beside me and I'm looking around. I am in an apartment. It's a nice apartment with nice things inside. I wouldn't be living in such a nice place if it weren't for Brent either.

He's half the rent and half the furniture. I also know he does half the work around here to keep this place running. He buys half the food and pays half the bills. Half the alcohol collection is his. In our bedroom, he has his half of the bed, his half of the closet and his half of the floor space to contain his mess.

And then there are the inequalities. All the art on the walls are his. Both cats are mine. The living room is all him minus one thing, the bedroom as all me, minus one thing. But it's all ok because that just means we've filled parts where there had been holes before.

And yet, being in sync with him and knowing that in the long run we're on the same track and that we fill each other up in so many ways, why is it not enough?

Is it just my curiosity about who else it out there or is it me or is it him?

And I look around and see this life we've made with each other and I get confused. We fit right now. We fit. But it's so fragile. Like a glass puzzle.

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