Careful What U Wish 4

My incessant need to always confess shit has brought me to the precipice where I currently find myself perched. I don't know what I expect to get out of the conversation that I all but insisted Shawn have with me tonight. I guess the main objective would be to get it all out from both sides, which is to say that I would really like to walk away with an admission from him that I was right -- which is going to hurt like hell -- or something concrete and believable I can hold onto without always and forever finding myself wondering what he really feels behind the polite lies he feeds me regularly.

An end to the guesswork. That pretty well sums it up, I suppose. It's exhausting trying to excavate a truth I can live with from the depths of Shawn's evasive nature. When he sees me coming at him with my truth shovel, the man is a marvel at throwing up smoke screens, putting up detours, and camouflaging himself instantly in a Gilly suit made of disaster, all aimed at keeping the status quo in place without having to deal with any repercussions his true feelings might inspire.

I understand why he doesn't want this to come to a head. As he's learned, there is a steady stream of support and generosity that flows one way toward him day and night from me to him, and that might continue unabated for quite a while, as long as nothing upsets the flow. Allowing me to wrest a hurty truth from his chamber of secrets would jeopardize that equilibrium, so he tries his best to mitigate the risk by omitting truths, bending them, or just flat out lying to me in a way he thinks is for the greater good. Bullshit.

Now that I've put all my cards on the table regarding the frustration and heartache I've felt pretty much consistently since he moved here from Yakima, I can't settle for any of those tactics or let him skirt the issue with one kind of distraction or another. I'm half tempted to tie him to a chair and get my answers forcibly, but that could prove counterproductive to say the least. No, what I need is to assure him that nothing he says is going to hurt me so badly that we can't recover from it. I'm 90% sure that's true. 

I fully expect to be disappointed and hurt and embarrassed beyond belief when he finally coughs it up, so there's that 10% chance I could run for the hills and hide my head in the sand for a while. But if that's what it takes, it's what has to happen. I can't keep this act up any longer. There needs to be a meeting of the minds, at least, even if our hearts might be on completely different paths.