Mairon (mairon) wrote in arda_genesis, @ 2008-06-02 10:25:00 |
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Current mood: | discontent |
Do they wonder where I go?
It's hard to believe that they can't tell. Or choose not to. Perhaps all that lofty idealism clouds one's vision? What an ironic handicap.
He's begun to tell me his plans and I feel privileged. I tell him things in return and he acts interested; as if these tiny observances are Important. Of course they're not and I find myself listening for significant things to pass on to him without being asked. For reasons I cannot completely fathom, this disgusts me. It's definitely not out of loyalty to them, fuck no. Possibly shoe leather is an acquired taste.
I have obsessive dreams of him taking me. They generally end with me sliding a knife between his ribs at the exact moment that he splits me in half.