"I feel like when I’m talking to you, I’m talking to myself," I said.<\/p>\n
"Huh?" she said.<\/p>\n
"I mean, I feel safe when I talk to you. It’s like I’m talking to myself. I feel that degree of safety. I know you’re not going to use what I say to hurt me. It’s a compliment."<\/p>\n
"OK," she said.<\/p>\n
I lead many separate lives and let almost nobody into all of them.<\/p>\n
When friends from my different lives come together, it makes me anxious.<\/p>\n
I want a few safe harbors where I can dock and not feel worried about being blogged.<\/p>\n
My writing comes first in my life — except for a handful of relationships. But without them, I find little solace in writing.<\/p>\n
I can only get close to people if I promise not to write about them but I can only write well if I can get close to people.<\/p>\n
Without close connections, I drift. My life has no meaning.<\/p>\n
I can only write well if I write passionately and I can only feel passion by getting inside of people.<\/p>\n
"Please do this for me. It’s for my writing."<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
"I feel like when I’m talking to you, I’m talking to myself," I said. "Huh?" she said. "I mean, I feel safe when I talk to you. It’s like I’m talking to myself. I feel that degree of safety. I … Continue reading