I was origionally going to make this a two-in-one type update, but I've decided against it. I mean, I could sit here and narrate the happenings of my life at this point, but in all honesty, this whole entry took a lot more out of me than I thought it would. It's been a work in progress for the past few days or so and I'm aware that most everyone will scroll past it and that's completely fine with me. So, I believe you now have a choice ... click or scroll. ;)

I've become a pretty decent photographer since I've been here and I've started a little scrapbook of the pictures I've been taking. They're mostly of the sights; the ocean, sunsets, beaches, etc. I even managed to squeeze a few in of us, though I tend to stay away from taking too many of those. I'd rather not clutter it with my face, but instead with his. Of course there are ones I've taken where he's giving me the evil look that basically says "get that fucking thing out of my face" (they're the ones that amuse me the most, oops. :x) Then there are some that just...take my breath away. I'm not talking about my photography skills either. I'm referring to the actual images I've captured onto the film. There was one night in particular, as I was getting out of the shower I heard the familiar sounds of his guitar coming from the bedroom. As soon as I entered into the room, I saw him sitting on the bed, bent over slightly, playing his guitar. His back was to me, so he didn't see me right away. For several moments, I just stood there watching him, listening to him play. I quietly made my way nearer to him and sat down on the floor next to the bed. He stopped then and gave me one of those looks of his (remember that smile I mentioned a few entries back?), and I just shook my head and told him to keep going. On my way over, I had grabbed my camera out of my bag. I began taking pictures, not just of his face (yes, I still think "those faces" are the best ever), but also his hands as he played. As strange as it may sound, I love his hands. I love watching them do what they do best, moving so naturally as he's playing. It's beautful, really. I fell asleep listening to him play. The next thing I knew, I could feel him lifting me up and placing me in the bed, pulling the covers over me. I didn't fall asleep again until he was next to me a short while later. I'll never forget that night. I never want to.

I've been hesitant about actually putting what I'm feeling into words. For one, I know that I could never do these emotions justice. I've said that before and it still holds true. There have been times, split seconds where I was so close to just opening up completely to him. Thankfully, I've bitten my tongue just in time...every time. I promised myself back in Texas that I wouldn't let myself fall back to what I was, I was going to be strong this time. Those kinds of promises are meant to be broken. These kinds of things aren't exactly things you can push aside whenever they're inconvienient to you. That feeling in your stomach doesn't fade away, as much as you will it to. That smile you've been trying to hide still creeps out, no matter how hard you try to hold it back. Sooner or later, those words you've been longing to say, the ones you've been biting back, they'll slip through your lips as easily as they please. They don't care about the consequences. Eventually, your tongue becomes numb to all that biting and there's nothing you can do to hold those words any longer. I'm not sure if this could be considered as one of the beautiful aspects of life or one of the most dangerous. The risk is high and I'm not sure I'm ready to take that leap and hope beyond all hope that I don't destroy all chances of finally retrieving what I had.

Having been on a tour where the majority of the people surrounding me are men, I've tried to get a male perspective on some of these things. From the start Adam and I found it quite easy to talk with one another. There were many nights, those first nights on the bus when I couldn't sleep, when we'd sit up and talk. One night in particular, I remember him asking about "the first time around" with me and John ... and for the first time, I let it all out. I told Adam everything; how we met, the day he came to my apartment to apologize for being an asshole (his words entirely, I swear), the first time we kissed, our time together in Germany. I don't know what made me tell him everything, but again, it wasn't something I could control. It was pouring out of me and there was nothing I could do to stop it. When I finally got around to the end, I realized that at some point I'd started crying. I'd pushed all those memories of that relationship to the back of my mind and being able to release them finally ... I felt physically lighter. It was at that point that Adam looked at me, dead serious, and told me that I had a choice. I could hold what happened with John against him, therefore never really forgiving him ... or I could try to understand why he did what he did and accept it as a lapse in his own self-confidance and forgive him for it. He then told me that'd he'd personally take me to the airport the next morning if I chose the first option, because he said it'd be a waste of my time and energy if I stayed. I thought long and hard about what he'd said that night. Needless to say, that was another sleepless night. Come morning, I left a note in Adam's bunk that simply said:

Now here I am, almost two months later, still here. I never really told Adam how thankful I am for that night. My gratitude extends beyond words. I don't think even I realized how much I needed to get all of it out in the open, it was killing me keeping it inside. His advice is a big part of the reason I'm as happy as I am right now. He made me realize that this, what John and I have, is worth fixing. I've been trying as hard as I can to allow myself to be the person I was before all of this happened. But, thinking on it now, I am who I am because of what happened. All of your experiences in life are what shape you into the person you are. Right now, regardless of everything that happened, I can honestly say that I'm happy with the person I've become. There are still several areas that I'd like to improve but I'm hoping that I'll have help with that task because I'm not sure I can do it alone. I have enough faith in the people around me to know that, in their own way, they'll help shape me into the person I want to be. Most of them already have.

I have been trying to think of a decent way to wrap this up only to come up empty. There's so much more I could say but I know that if I said more, I'd start to make even less sense than I do throughout this entire entry. Instead, I'm going to say that, yes, I am a work in progress. I'm not perfect, far from it. It's a comfort to know that I'm not the only one on that boat. It's okay if I make a bad judgement call and it's okay if he does too. We're all entitled to our bad days (and in some cases, weeks or even months), right? I just hope that I have more of these kinds of days in my future, days where I don't dread the end because I know that tomorrow might be a little better. It's nice to have something to look forward to when I go to bed at night. Just like it's nice to be able to fall asleep to him playing his music, then waking up to those hands, those beautiful hands, wrapped around me so comfortably. I've never felt more content than when I'm with him.