He's crazy!
He must be crazy.
What would possess a man to say such things?
Moonlight? They say the full moon makes folk mad. Sometimes with violence and rage. Sometimes with lust and desire.
Or maybe loneliness. I get it. I know the ache that makes you want to reach out and touch someone close to you. To feel warm and wanted. Even if your heart isn't in it, and you're just plain lonely.
Yet I still like him. I like his broad shoulders and his hats and his kindness and his imperfectness. Is that a word?
I told him that he reminds me of Ivan. The wound that still isn't closed. I'm used to that, though. I told him so. I'm good at losing people.
Bree is full of trouble for me. Hasn't it always been? Every single time I set foot there, something troublesome finds me. I don't understand the people, and they don't understand me. So few people are truly kind or open with those of us who don't fit in so easily.
I don't think I'll stay long. Nature is so much easier to be around. Safe, quiet, honest. It doesn't lie to you, it doesn't play games with your words or your heart. It shows you itself right up front, and it accepts you just as you are. You follow its rules or you die. Black and white. Blunt and raw. That's how I like it.
It is nice, though, to feel comfortable and safe in another person's presence again. It's been a long time since I felt that way.
Even if he is crazy.
