Dear [Dave]:

[It's been about six hours.]

I think you just called my cell phone and woke everyone up. Sorry but I can't talk tonight...it's not your fault..I have a final tomorrow night and I also have to finish an assignment as I volunteered myself to complete the group project at home. Go figure.

I think I've read your email about a dozen times already. I think you should also get an online journal...if not for me just for yourself. See where you are in a month..a year....

I want you to know that I'm not mad at you. I only wonder why you hadn't told me sooner...because that's the part that upsets me a little..you're always about opening up and being real. And truthful.

And so....it has me somewhat questioning.

..i think you guilt trip yourself too much...of course you've had a while to do it...and i'm sure you truely are sincerly sorry.

Everyone around me pries into my private life...but I think you're the first one to say you're sorry, and I respect that. I understand that being on a public domain, anyone is able to read me. My friends, my enemies, my co-workers and teachers even. . .And so it's like I'm conditioned to a comfort zone.

I don't know if you understand.

It feels good to hold you too. I felt that something was wrong that night..and you had your back to me...so I couldn't help but hug you from behind and lean on you. It was like I acted what you felt. . . .we're like mirrors man.

That night that we went to Au bar...when we were outside my house there was this moment that you brushed my hair off my face and looked in my eyes....and I swear..we breathed at the same time.

I'll talk to you some more. Maybe you'll read this tonight.