daily Mass, weekly confession and nightly betrayal.

Confession is not betrayal. What you say or do doesn't matter; only feelings matter. If they could make me stop loving you-that would be the real betrayal.

He felt like an outsider. He felt angry, and he felt his brilliance was being overlooked. And he felt much smarter than the people around him.

This is a terrible confession to make, but after I left the Army I had a number of things to try. I had a great conceit to think that if all else failed I could always go to Hollywood. So when all else did fail I really went to Hollywood. And then I found out how wrong I was.

So what do you have to confess now?"
I don't know why I'm saying any of this, except that is the truth.
"I'm confessing that I don't know if I'm ready for this."
"What is 'this'?"
"Being open. Being hurt. Liking. Not being liked. Seeing the flicker on. Seeing the flicker off. Leaping. Falling. Crashing.

It was a mistake," you said. But the cruel thing was, it felt like the mistake was mine, for trusting you.