It's like driving along those winding mountain roads. It always scared the shit out of me.

Yeah, I'm in control. But there's still the possibility, the chance of going over. And if you go over, all is lost. You die. The End.

I don't trust myself with that much responsibility. "Are you going to cheat on me," he asks, and I don't fucking know. No, no, fuck no, I say, a knee-jerk reaction, but I can't fucking tell. Her words echo in a way that drops the floor from under my feet: You're too goddamn retarded not to. I'm a fuck-up. I'm a tremendous fuck-up and I know it and this is the most important thing that ever was [to me] and I don't trust myself with it.

And all I want to do is lie in his arms until it all goes away. He makes me feel so safe. Like nothing else matters. [What a fucking cliche. I sicken myself.]

He doesn't and I think won't ever understand her effect on me. I don't know what'll happen if I fall into a rage directed at him. I fear I might hurt him. Physically, emotionally, I don't know how. I fear, undirected.

& selfish little prick that I am, I worry more that he'll realize he doesn't have to take it anymore than that I might do actual damage. Well, no. I'm pretty sure I can't hurt him that bad, I guess. Certainly no more so than Pam. So it all comes down to his willingness to take my shit, how honest about myself I can be around him, if I'll ever know where the line is or that I've crossed it until it's too late.

I mean. This is the normal shit people worry about in relationships. I'm just a coward, crippled by it.

He asks, will I cheat on him. I don't know. Sex means so little to me. I can't get around that. Even with him, it's nothing special. I derive more joy from falling asleep next to him than fucking him. I keep thinking back to fucking random friends for no good reason, asking myself why why why, what what going through my head . . . I can't. Bring myself to care about it. And that scares me, because I fail to realize the risks.

He asks, were you even attracted to him, and I say, yeah, sort of. I guess. It's wierd. I have no basis for it. Yeah, I'll fuck my friends . . . they're my friends. I don't care in the least about it, why should they? I fail at human understanding. I fail at empathy. Dan did an insanely good job of hiding his feelings for me, and I did an insanely good job of killing mine for him. And in the end despite everything that Sab has said, it just ended up screwing us both over. We may never recover.

Lost trust, lost love. I am not virgin territory. Why does he even stick around.

I'm not monogamous, I don't understand monogamy, I don't understand jealousy, I don't understand "making love," I am not

[what he needs. or even wants.]

human

[DEFECT]

I am

[kivarth pukkukku. antuoth pukkukku. akh pukkuk!
Translation: Fucking idiot. And she slams me against the wall, hiss-grinning for what we both know is true. Defective. Inhuman. Wrongwrongwrong.]

myself.

The part that bothers me most is that, aside from the lack, I can feel nothing wrong with it. It is how I was made. I cannot be any other way.

Unfortunately several of my modules seem to be mutually incompatible. The conflict must be resolved or I will lose my life.

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