Beginning is the hardest part

Backing up.

I spent most of last night with Caleb. Well, a few-some hours, anyway. I was feeling restless, and I figured he'd be up, so I called him. We walked around, went to this ... big abandoned building that used to be an orphanage, apparently. It was fucking creepy inside, but kind of beautiful in it's own broke-down way. Made me wish I had my camera. We talked about me, what I was, I showed him my wings. Partly because I wanted to see how he'd react to them, partly because we didn't have any light in there. He was ... awed. Not scared. It was really -- I don't know. I really really don't. He wanted to touch them, so I let him. Probably too much. It just felt ... good. Nice. Pleasurable, even. Which is probably NOT a good thing. I don't know why I'm so fixated on it, it was just the way he did it. I've never really felt like they were beautiful before. Amazing, sure, but not like that.

It makes me wonder if Thom would do it the same. If he'd even want to.

Moving on. We talked. We made each other mad a couple of times, I cried, he almost killed himself, he gave me a cross from the place which he got by almost killing himself. He grabbed my arm, but I didn't let him know that it hurt a little. It was the weirdest handful of hours I've ever spent with anyone. I've never known anyone that tumultuous. He's pissed one minute, and grinning the next, it's exhausting to keep up with. But then something will come up and I see this dark shadow come into his eyes and he'll turn his back. He's not clinging too hard to staying alive, I can see that. He couldn't even tell me something good he loved about being alive. Not one thing.

I'm nobody's savior. I know that. I'm just as lost as anybody else. Probably more. There are nights that I think I could let go of everything too, and be better for it. But I hate to see it in someone else. Just ... hate to. It turns my guts and -- just ... From the things he says, I feel like I could help. Be a shoulder, an ear, something. Is that dangerous? Maybe. This is exactly what I've strived not to do. Because there could come a day (even more than the regular 'could' that everybody has) that I have to go to him and watch the life leak out of him. Because there's life there, a lot of it. It's just angry life.

I don't know if this is healthy. If I'm doing the right thing. I'm so lost in all this, I don't have any answers. Just feelings. ... and I know I sound like I'm obsessing about him, but you don't see bits and parts of a person laid bare and not think about it. I don't, anyway.

Thom has his shit together. Even with his Thing He Can't Tell me, he's collected and confident and I don't know if there is a side to him like this. An unbridled side. It makes me want to know. What makes him tick. He's passionate about music. But music can't hurt you. Music can't rip out your soul. It can reflect it, definitely, but ... vulnerability speaks to me. I suppose it makes sense, if you think about it. I see people at their most vulnerable. How much more vulnerable can you get but when you're dying? I see their naked pain, their fear, and wonder how anybody could hate anyone when we're all made out of the same stuff. I know that everyone is capable of that.

Maybe I just want to know who trusts me with it. If I'm going to be getting close to people and giving them my vulnerability, why shouldn't I have it back? And maybe I want to be able to try to help before it's too late, for once. Before they slip away and there's nothing to be done about it.