Under a darkened Tent

I curled my hair. I look like a banshee from behind.

It looked like it might be only moderately warm today, so I wore pants, a 3/4 sleeve shirt, and I didn't bring my jacket because it usually becomes baggage around midday. I wish I had brought it. Its really cold outside.
But still, not nearly as cold as it is inside. I still haven't managed to figure out how I keep myself from saying things I want to say, but I know that most of these things are the irrational fancies of my mind and heart, and that I would probably want to take them back after having actually said them.
I've been feeling pretty shitty lately. I can't talk to him, because he's no good at comforting; and I can't tell him that, because it would hurt his feelings. What the fuck is wrong with us? I love him, but I'm so worried about hurting him that I can't even talk to him? To say the least, please don't talk to me about it. It'll get better. I promise.

Thank God for my best friend. Because I wouldn't get anywhere without him. He [was the first] to show me the Ocean in a world full of Fire.