they say alcohol is truth serum, the only real kind that exists. i know it's true in my case; when i have a bit to drink, i tend to 'fess up to whatever's going on in my head. sometimes this is good. other times, this is obnoxious. but most of the time, it's somewhere in between: that weird gray area between necessary and comfortable.
we had a nice, long talk last night. i don't know where it came from. i think it was the crazy acceleration of my life-change timetable, but something had me feeling kinda sped-up and unsure, like the ground underneath me was sliding around under my feet. i want to be so careful with him; he's such a vital piece of my life, and i don't ever want to be without him. he's so wired into my soul that it makes me... well, the feeling is equal parts bliss and terror, i think. i am so incredibly at peace when he wraps his arms around me and kisses me. i want to hold onto this feeling forever.
so i did what the wine told me to: i spilled my guts. and once again, i had it shown to me in no uncertain terms that honesty is the very best policy when you're dealing with something this important. he can settle my soul and melt my heart with a single sentence. he deals in an economy of words; unlike me, when things are important, he will not make grand, sweeping declarations. this not only gives his words more power, it gives me confidence when he does say something to me. he shows me what he feels, and that's what matters. the rest? window dressing.
the truth is in his kiss, his touch, and even his cautious nature. we tread lightly, but we move forward together. that's what matters.