Solitary

Metatron has spent the last week in a self-imposed withdrawal where I am not welcome. There is no room for anything except sleep & the occasional sarcastic quip. Moments of lucidity bring profuse apologies but he keeps me at a distance. My reply is the eternally dull ‘’Okay’’ but it does not feel okay. It is a lie.

He is currently faking sleep on the couch half listening to Bathurst, half listening to me. Not really where he appears to be. Wondering what all my tapping is about, wondering why I am ignoring him. Now he will go back to bed & I will not see him for the rest of the day.

He keeps secrets; so much of his past – a mystery. Information must be drawn out like a long hot bath until I am covered in so much contradiction I am drowning & lost under the surface desperately needing to come up for air. Secrets breed suspicion – he does not understand this is something I need to avoid. Having a wild imagination is not a virtue.

For the most part Meta is the most wonderful & challenging man I have ever met; the fact that those two aspects do not occur in equal parts is probably what keeps me here.

During a lucid phase today we talked a lot about Lacomus. Meta mentioned he feels Lacomus is stalking him because [quote] “if he’s drug fucked that’s something he would do.” I tried to delve deeper into what this might mean but he did not elaborate stating “I do not want to fill your head with hearsay”. Well, hearsay, my ass. Would it not be better for me to know these things so that I may be aware? Keeping me in the dark does not keep me safe.

I get glimpses of a hidden & vicious side to Meta which is present or in his past. I do not know how much this is feigned or if it is intentional. Under the right circumstances sex & violence are sexy – truth be told I continue to hope I have met my match. That overwhelming urge to run sometimes makes the thrill even stronger. His constant personality shifts seem like they are intended as a distraction, but from what?

He has an uncanny ability to get under (or over my walls) in a very subtle way. This differs so much from my techniques – I smash through walls, not usually concerned with the outcome or the damage. I can only suppose that is why so many of my relationships & friendships end up as unrecognisable piles of rubble with me standing victorious on top. Victorious, but alone.

I do not want that to happen here. I do not want to be left with a pile of rubble, I want to build something. I have never felt this way & it is disconcerting & at times overwhelming.

I am tired of being alone.

New Dawn Purple by d4rkn3ss

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