It's almost 4:00. I am here, writing this at this hour, for various reasons. I coaxed Faith into bed upon which point she curled up into a ball and was, apparently, asleep. I went online for a few minutes a while ago while she was reading a book and when I got offline, she was asleep on the couch. From wide awake to out cold in 15 minutes. I guess the thing which bothers me most is remembering the tales she told me about the way she dealt with Paul. Curling up on the couch and pretending to be asleep. Going online so she wouldn't have to deal with him. I can't help but wonder if I am receiving the same treatment.

Apparently, there are glaring deficiencies in my character, which she has pointed out in detail. I am one of those people who “count how many hugs and kisses” I receive every day. Among other things. I “creep around.” There are others. Things I don't care to get into. Bullshit.

I wonder what the hell has happened.

Faith has explained, in detail, all that is going on in Albany and with her family, and I am supposed to meekly accept the situation. I am supposed to accept silence. I've found myself wondering if she would talk to me or even look at me if I didn't engage her. There would definitely be no hugs nor kisses nor even touches were it not for my slipping my arm around her or kissing her in passing. I don't think I am one to “count how many hugs and kisses,” but I find myself drifting and more than a little lonely. I had not expected this.

I am trying to be mature and conduct myself as an adult, but I am a long way from home. I have no friends here. I have no job to divert my attentions. I have nothing to occupy my time or thoughts sufficiently. All I really have is a memory of how things were last week, and a weak hope that it may be so again.

And yes. I suppose I wonder how much of this coldness has to do with Albany and how much has to do with myself. I can't ask questions or I am being a child. I can't get quiet, which I often do when thinking, or I'm “creeping.” I find myself walking on glass, afraid of saying something wrong, or doing something, or not doing something, or being found deficient in some other area.

The first few times I tried to kiss her today, she turned her cheek. Whether or not she realized it I shall never know. Whether or not it was intentional, I shall never know.


So here I am. I don't know what I'm supposed to do. I don't know what I'm supposed to be. I don't know what is expected of me. And in many real and valid ways, I am as alone here as I was in North Carolina. And I don't know what to do. Parts of me scream for flight. Fuck this. Leave. Find a place of your own down here. Live your own life. Find a place where you won't have to justify yourself or defend your nature.

All it would take to make me happy would be some show of emotion. Making love would do wonders for my insecure soul. It's been a week since we last made love. And in that time things have grown steadily colder. The only time there seems to be ease is when we talk of trivial things. When we are “buddies.” When we talk as we did online. Simple conversation. It is in those moments that things seem better. More comfortable. But in the back of my mind is always the thought that we were lovers last week and now I don't know what we are. And I am supposed to understand.