I felt that he was an nice enough man, although maybe a little rough around the edges. His words made me warm and fuzzy inside and he was a good listener. But more importantly than that, I felt he could be trusted.
So i ended up telling him everything; right to the last detail. I guess all this while I just needed someone to talk to, someone outside the small circle of people I see almost every day for the past 5 years. He didn't need to understand, he didn't even need to agree with me. All i wanted was for him to listen and pretend like he cared, which in all honesty he probably didn't.
It didn't really matter.
It felt good just letting it off my chest, all those deep dark secrets i carry around with me. Maybe someday, all the guilt and memories that invade my subconscious when i sleep and gives me goosebumps when I'm not, will grow dull with time.
Until then, i suppose i will just have to live with it.
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