I’m back at my apartment. Every time I come back here, it feels colder. St Petersburg is sunshine, and here…. not so much. I can’t help but feel worried about Yuri. He says he’s fine but… I can just tell he’s not. I don’t understand what’s upsetting him… and he won’t talk to me.
I don’t want him to be alone right now…. it’s almost that time of year where his parents died. I know that must be part of this… whatever it is. They died when he was six. And it’s really hard to talk about it, even to himself. The only time he mentioned it to me, he cried for an hour and then started swearing. He hated looking “weak”, he said. I know he wears his anger as a protective shield… some people smile through hurt, trying to get everyone to like them. He tends to do the opposite, I’ve noticed. Because of this, it’s hard for me to know what he’s thinking. And I wish he’d let me in more….
I thought this was all due to some comment, and that our fighting was over with… but I can’t help but think there’s more to it than that. Oh Yuri, I know I’m not the greatest person in the world, but I promise you can tell me anything…
All of this uncertainty… it’s tearing me apart…. please tell me what’s wrong.