Another day.

A lot has happened, relatively, since last I made an entry. Some things have changed. First and foremost I must say, since I skimmed over the preceeding entries and have marked some doubts I had at one time, that Faith did, indeed, send the $500 with which I paid my phone bill. I suppose that says a lot. She helped me when no one else would have.

And now she's sending another $500. This time it is for freedom.

I have erected this complete fantasy about living on my own. I suppose the old fears haunted me; that no one, especially not a married, 34 year old woman, would be interested in a boy who still lived with his mom, and that is basically what I am, regardless of my age or maturity or habit of staying with other people.

I never meant to involve Faith in anything like this. She made a statement one night (on a few nights, actually) in which she said that she might drive on up for a visit when her brother Bill goes into surgery. Well, needless to say, it would have been quite a shock for her to have come up to visit and found me living at home with my mom and three aunts.

So I fashioned this story to counter-act that; it being that my rent was going up and I had to move. She couldn't very well visit me if I didn't have a place, right? At first I was supposed to “go back home to live with my mom” for awhile. But somewhere along the lines, I started to find that I really did fancy the
idea of going somewhere. In considering the money I will be getting from selling my equipment, it seemed that getting a place wouldn't be a problem.

And then a new equation entered into the summation. Faith offered to let me borrow the money to move. Naturally, I refused at first. But then I began to ache for this idea. I longed for it, even as I do now. And last night, I accepted it.

So it seems that I'm moving out. I haven't told my mom anything about this yet. The only people who know are Rick and Cisie, since it was they I asked about the apartment adjoining theirs. The problem is, I need to get Mama to call Mrs. Trott for me, to inquire into the renting of the apartment. I'll have to tell her that I'm moving and make this request at the same time.

You know, I'm sitting here wondering ... what is my motivation here? Of the fact that I love Faith, there is no doubt. Every waking moment, literally, is spent in thinking of her. I ache for the morning that I may call her. I ache for the nights that I may go online and feel her presence. And when I am online, I long to hear her voice. I love her. More and more each day. And I cannot imagine being without her. Yet we have never touched. That says a lot, I think.

So I ache for the day to come. June 6th. The first meeting. The thought of finally meeting her face to face doesn't frighten me as much as the idea of never getting to.

So here I am.

I think, somehow, that moving out of here will be some way of letting go. At least initially. Then, if and when I DO move to Georgia (or possibly Florida), the break won't be as profound. I'll already have been gone, and I'll already have established something of a feel for real independence.

Jesus.

But on to other things.

I'm not sure if I've mentioned Patricia Rodrigues. Pattie is the lady in Florida whom we are going to visit the first week in June. She, too, had an online computer love, named Denny. But her affairs have become convoluted. Her husband, damn him, rigged up a tape deck and recorded her conversations, those both with Denny and with Faith, and there may even be one of me on there, although I doubt it.

Her husband freaked. He was on her heels like a dog all weekend last. She actually look up once while she was taking a shower and he was standing on the toilet, looking at her over the shower door.

Jesus. That scares me. It sounds very much like a man who is losing it.

Anyway, they are supposed to seperate. He is to move to Miami. Whether or not this takes place, only time will tell, but I will state here and now that I think Pattie is in a no win situation. I don't think Denny is what she needs, either. It almost seems to me that he's just flying down for a weekend of fun and sex. But at the same time, he's spent a lot of money staying in touch with her. We had a conversation one night, in which he said “Friend, I think we're going to get the fucks of our lives” that weekend in St. Augustine. That worries me. I just hope that it isn't the sole driving force behind his “passion.”

As for myself?

Well, I'm not really sure of the motivating factor. Of course I love Faith. As yet it's not this overpowering, all-encompassing. That can only come after I've touched her. After I've looked into her eyes. And after I've acknowledged to myself, once and for all, that there are no games and that her feelings, also, are real. I try not to doubt. And yet I do. Still, all things considered, there is only one course of action.

Since I started writing this entry, I've talked to Faith. She's supposed to call in a bit. I've also talked to my mom. She's supposed to call Mrs. Trott. Whether she does or not remains to be seen. I imagine she'll try putting it off and we'll have a few exchanges before she does actually call.

Still, though, I am hoping to be a resident by this weekend. That would be nice. From point A to point B to point C. Point “B” being the apartment. Point “C” being Faith.

God, give me the strength ...