K said I should

I had a nice chat with K this afternoon.

Oh, you know K, she's the old and mutual friend of Jaz and mine. She's deranged, but very wise and an excellent BS detector, a good sounding board (and, I hear, a wonderful dancer).

She asked me how I was doing, with the attention I'd been getting lately from my readers (trust me, you only see the tip of the iceberg here). I told her it was a bit disconcerting, sort of like the old Panther days, when the radiance of my passion and affection for one woman drew moths to the flame, cluttering the line of sight.

I told her I should just state emphatically to the world where I stand (which I would think is incredibly obvious to all but the most superficial of readers).

K said I should.

She's right you know. K's always right (except about politics, but I can forgive that).

But.

But, it is scary. To step out and off the ledge, throwing myself into the abyss. I know I will survive the fall, but the descent is still painful and terrifying. I don't much like either sensation, despite the surety of my durability. To place my trust and faith and dreams in the hands of one woman.

I've done it before and found myself, weeks or months or even years later, eviscerated by the jagged, ragged rocks of failed hope and shallow hearts. I am not a masochist. But faith is a powerful lure. Faith in a religion I myself am considered both a high priest and a heretic in, that of love.

So, let me state here, emphatically, that I am resigned and designed upon the heart and whims of Jaz. Read my works and listen to my recordings to your heart's content, knowing that it is to her, of her and for her that I write and I create. She is the mother of my thoughts, but my pen is the womb of this expression of affection.

That was every bit as scary of an admission as I thought it would be. Cross your fingers.