He writes in his note that I make him feel safe. I am glad. Though I find it hard to see how this could be so when I am so profoundly unsafe. He says its about the fact that there is no artifice to me, that I am true. I understand that. I would say dependable. I try to be. The rest? I just don’t know. He calms me. Trying to talk me out of this perpetual unravelling. Stop it, he says. Just stop it.
