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Strange Fruit

I had recently adorned a vow of silence for myself with Miriam for no apparent reason whatsoever other than to suit my whim, and, regardless of the pettiness associated with this misdemeanour, I pray this will only strengthen us both in spirit for the coming days. The coming days are definitely not meant for one such as me.

In the next few hours, not shortly before I am done with this piece, this vow will be disavowed. Miriam is sleeping soundly in my right, broken by the exhaustion that seemed to catch her unaware. This was not what she had prepared for when coming to London. This was not what I meant for her when I asked her to come. In order to alleviate the guilt of me making it more difficult for us both, I do what it is that I do best, and that is to love her hungrily and wildly. And some little bit of swag on the side to cure her state of frustration albeit temporarily.

My days are long and yet wields very little. For now I do and take whatever I can, whenever I can. A grand factotum if there ever was one. If and when she does decide to tire of me (it isn't impossible) then I aim to wander once more the same way as I did before she came into my days.

Sometimes I do think of going back to the old ways, the difficult ways. There are days when I am allured by the temptations of gallivantry, afeared only for the sake of Miriam herself without me by her side. Perhaps it is for the best that she does suffer the loss of me. But I will not have it, not for the life of me, or hers, even if it is selfishness on my part.

Last night, the thoughts of Miriam spending hours with someone else was a thought that bothered me for a bit, only because she came back home to me empty-handed. She never comes home late without something to offer me with. A food, perhaps, or a story, or a smile. If she did hide something from me, it is best for me to reconcile with this thought as soon as now. The most grievous sin I have struck from my previous relationship was insecurity and paranoia. One that engulfed me thoroughly, and dealt me a most fatal blow. One that I could never get over with for the rest of my days.

Before I dealt with Miriam, I made a solemn vow to avoid the same mistakes as I did with Mioseon. There are still those bits and pieces that lingered on, hard-pressed to leave my humanity. And there are those I struggle to accept, but the process of acceptance is not negotiable but, rather, it is painfully mandatory.

Morning has struck me now, and Miriam utilises her limbs well to kick me off the bed. Sometimes I do hope she does this unwittingly, otherwise it would be a melotragedy, and we have house music to sing us the melody. The kind of which she introduced me a few hours ago before she went to sleep. She never even listens to house music, technically. I often wonder what it would be like to truly find someone fully compatible with my personality. It would be an even worse and misshapen melotragedy.

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