he usually has me proofread his news letters before he sends them out to his supporters; he knows i'm anal about grammar in all the most useful ways. but he didn't tell me what this letter what about until i was a few sentences in, and by then my guard had already been down for too long. it's just been a long day, begun by too few hours of sleep, and i'm already feeling the backlog of work i'm going to incur from this trip to DC tomorrow night. it was a recipe for potential disaster. the thing is, i've already settled my heart about his decision to stay in pittsburgh; i'm sure it's the right choice. he's great at what he does, and i've seen it first hand. but it's taken a lot of time to get myself whole-heartedly to the place where i understand that his choice to stay there was not about me. it feels like i'm not a priority, but that's not the truth. the truth is that i don't know what's best any better than he does, and if things are meant to work out, then they will, on their own. but to hear him tell the story over again, the story where he's not sure what he's going to do, where he's headed in one direction and then turns around...it just hit me in all the wrong, weak ways. i've been accidentally sucker-punched in the heart.