I love you. I am entirely convinced that you love me despite your refusal to admit a damned thing. You are the one person with whom I find talking and fucking and companionship to be an equal and mutual joy. I never thought it possible to understand and be understood as we do. And it is hard enough to know that my friends regard this, or me, with amusement or contempt; it is hard enough for us all to live in the shadow of the gallows; and I am damned if I will let you roll additional boulders in our path with your accursed independence that I have no desire at all to infringe. I don’t want to
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