If Ken would just have a fucking feeling once in a while, make a little eye contact, cup my face in his hands, press his forehead to mine, say something sweet—I’m not even looking for complete sentences. He can fucking tap You are beautiful into my ass in Morse code if it’s really that excruciating for him to express himself out loud—that entire entry would have been about him. Actually, that entry wouldn’t even exist. There would be no need. We’d be John and fucking Yoko.
