Too deep? Am I just trying to stay away from the storm on the surface? Or is there a life in here.  I know the one I live out there isn't living really, so I come in here to find a safe place to be me.  

My friends say it's ok, they know the real me.  They say it's not all an act, I really am this, that, and something else nice.  And they are probably right about really knowing me, and maybe they are right about the nice stuff, too.  But my costumes are never meant to fool anyone but me.  I am the only one who knows about the scars I try to hide; everyone else would hardly notice the defects even without all my disguises.  What's worse is the scars were never a big deal to anybody but me.  I have been hiding all my life, terrified of something and avoiding so many wonderful things--discarding precious moments, evading ecstasies--because that was the cost of remaining hidden.  

Only there was never any reason to hide, and all that I threw away, I could have kept.

Took a little trip to work, and dropped off a CD I borrowed yesterday from Paula.  But that was just my excuse to go there and catch a glimpse...  

Dave.  I'm resisting my feelings about him, the topic makes me uncomfortable.  I guess it is like a crush, only 'I am too old for that'.  Right.  You don't believe it? Me neither.  He has been the subject of every adjective I know that describes good looks.  He has been rumored to be gay only because any gay man sporting a testosterone-soaked ego would find Dave utterly irrestible--if Dave ever offered himself.  As far as I know, he has never offered himself to any man.  But I want to believe he has, and I want to believe he would, and I want to believe he wants to.  I fantasize he will.

Dave is an RN where I work.  He spends 5 or 6 days a week in the gym, and he comes to work looking like a model.  I want to describe his looks, but it is easier to describe his flaws; none.  He has curly dark hair, dark eyes with thick long lashes, lips that could wake you from a coma, and a perfectly warm and disarming smile.  His body--all muscle, cut and rippled under smooth tan skin--is a work of art; thank God for clothes, otherwise I would faint daily.  I hate him.  

Presenting and maintaining such a stunning appearance is showing-off, we think, and show-offs deserve our scrutiny.  Dave has been given many derogatory attributes including self-centered, cold, dumb, arrogant, unfeeling, immature, and gay.  (That last one is only derogatory if you are a straight woman; it is wishful thinking for me.)

Honesty will do nothing to ease my feelings of inferiority around Dave (a.k.a. Adonis), in fact, it will make me feel worse.  But this journal is about honesty, and honesty is about becoming real, and that justifies the discomfort.  So, to tell the truth, Dave is probably not self-centered, he's a nurse.  He's not cold, if he was I wouldn't have a crush.  Dumb? Well, he passed the test, and got his license--not easy.  Arrogant comes from somewhere out in left field; he has never been anything but gentle and unassuming.  As for unfeeling, well, who would know? I can't see into his heart and I've never seen him cry, but I have seen him laugh and though I deny it, I know him to be considerate, kind and caring.  And maybe he's immature, but so am I, and I've had ten years more time than him to grow up.  The only thing I can say without equivocation is that Dave is no more or less scared than everyone else.  He just looks spectacular, and I just want to find some ugliness in him somewhere so I don't feel so bad about it.  

One thing more.  He's got a new job.  He's leaving.  

You know, sometimes I wish I'd get honest about my feelings sooner, like within about a year or two of feeling them...