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The Top of the Mountain

This morning got up bright and early to go to Shenandoah National Park for a hike with Scott. We only did a couple miles as most of their hikes are pretty short (I don't even know if we even did a couple miles--didn't really seem like much, though coming back was all uphill). He brought sandwiches and chocolate and we ate on one of the overlooks. Then we climbed...well, it wasn't really climbing so much as scrabbling up a stony walkie-way. He tried to show off and climb (I think he said it was 5-7 territory) and scared the shit out of me--he got up like twelve feet bare-handed and then announced, "Huh. This is a little dicier than I thought. I wish I wasn't wearing these boots." He got down again though, much to my intense relief ("Aw, are you mad at me?" "No, you just scared the SHIT outta me!"), and then we both went up to the top to look out. And we talked about life and pain and just trying to make our way through as best we could.

It's funny, he's not who I thought he was, and I think I admire him more now. He is very easy to be with, though he still makes me ache a bit. I hope I'll get over that eventually--he promises someday I'll find someone way better even than Scott 2.0. I have my doubts, but I know that people you can truly bare yourself too without fear are the rarest of all, and must be treasured.

So there you go. And I am tired and stinky. Must go fix that.

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