dear diary,

it is so hard to be honest with myself. the truth is that i am incredibly selfish and vain. often what i say to myself, and to others, sound wonderful... and genuine... but, really, i suppose, these words are simply uttered for me to appear more wonderful... and genuine, than...

and another thing, i stopped dancing with some people, for a variety of reasons, and now milongas are so awkward... no more eye contact, no more greetings, no more smile, from them to me, nor from me to them. and that's hard, because i care (perhaps too much) that people like me.

and completely unrelated, but mentioned only because i was so surprised when it happened (i can be very dense) to me: for a long time, i danced as a friend. and now, with increasing frequency, i find myself dancing as a man. this is crazy intoxicating...

intoxicating... so easy to type, and yet, impossible to express completely and accurately all that happens in my soul.