I'm sorry this is weird.

I know... I know.

So don't come and tell me I'm a bastard, 'cause I know that much myself. And I sure as hell don't need anybody else rubbing it into my face, thank you very much. And don't come telling me I shouldn't curse, because I'll curse all I like. Just because I'm not doing it aloud, doesn't mean I don't know how to do it, and actually do do it. In my mind.

It's been a while, I'm sure he's wondering where I've been. Out of general curiosity... and out of concern for me. He just is like that.

It's not like he's expecting me. I mean, how could he? My visits are sporadic, with time in between, unexpected even to myself. There are some days where I'm on the hunt, and there's this pretty girl, and I can see she's interested, and if I said just one word, she'd follow me wherever I'd ask her to go, but I don't. Ask her, that is. Sometimes I don't even say the word. Instead, I sit and watch, and sometimes I get really sick from watching all that flirting and displaying... pre-mating routine without sense or direction. Just riding out the hormones.


And to think that most nights I'm very much a part of this makes me even sicker. To think that I'm not only part of it, but enjoying it. How much filth can you stuff into one person? Obviously quite a lot.

Yeah, and so today's gonna be another one of those nights. Not a hormone-driven night that leads to me humping somebody in an unfamiliar apartment. Sometimes it's hers, sometimes it's what passes as mine. No, tonight's gonna be one of those nights where I show up on his doorstep, well, window-pane, but tell me the ultimate difference.

I'll climb inside, he'll serve me a soda, we'll talk a bit, and eventually, we'll end up sitting on his bed, where he starts whispering things into my ear. Honestly, I couldn't tell you what it is he's whispering, because at that point my mind's usually gone, and all I really care for is his breath in my ear. Absolutely not interested in what he says. Nothing important, I'm sure.

And after a while like that, he'll pull me away, off the bed and into a corner of his room. Not worth thinking of anybody catching us like that. God, I'd be banned forever! No scams anymore, no casual visits... nothing. They'd have my picture up at the front desk, they'd nail Murdock's window shut, weld iron bolts in front of it, set it under electricity, and connect it to the main security alarm. Doing homosexual stuff is so not a goal of psychotherapy.

Yes, I can admit it just like that. It is homosexual. No way to deny or extenuate it. I get off on things a man does to me. That in itself does not make me a homosexual, but it is homosexual.

His light is not even on yet. I seldom come this early, most times I wait for the night... usually it's around, or even past, midnight. But today... I don't know, today the thought alone of going out makes me... same old story.

You may wonder what's the difference between him and the girls? After all, all I do with him is getting off, exactly the same thing I do with the girls.

I've been wondering that myself for a while, and I think I know the answer now: It's him. He's not just a face and a body. He's a person. I know I can come back to him, and god knows I do. He'll always be there, and that's very comforting.

Another thing that's comforting is that I'm off charge but still in control. Sounds impossible, but that's how it is. He's got all the work and responsibility, and I say stop. I set the pace... more or less, anyway. I say yes or no. He always abides. He follows me, and at the same time he is the one who walks ahead and smoothens out the road for me.

I know, I'm a selfish bastard. I don't know why he doesn't mind, but apparently he doesn't.

Ok, more likely, he sacrifices the part of him that does mind for the sake of my company.

Ouch, sounds even more selfish and bastardy, but it's the truth. I'm sure he loves me... yep, in that way. And I know what foolish things we do for love. We let the ones we love trample on us, we let them exploit us, use us, ruin us in the end. It surely doesn't make me feel any better, knowing that that is exactly what I'm doing. Except, I like to think that I'm not ruining him. The other three... yes, definitely.

I don't know how he can stand me. If I were him, I'd have kicked my butt years ago. At the latest, when I started steering things into the sexual field. I mean, he's such a great person. He's... god, I could become all mushy and sappy describing him. He's earned better than me. Being an inmate at an asylum doesn't exactly encourage people to have a relationship with you, but that's exactly what he deserves.

And it's the one thing I cannot give him.

I don't do relationships. I'm not made for them. Me and relationships, we're about as made for each other as are fish and hot-air-balloons. God, I start sounding like him. Maybe I should book a room next to his, definitely would safe me a lot of trouble on days like today.

Ok, no way postponing it. If I don't show up on his "doorstep" soon, I'm gonna lose my nerve, and if I lose my nerve, I'm gonna lose myself, happened before. I sometimes think that I'd never enlisted if I had had a Murdock back then. Wow, that sounds so heartless again. I'm not heartless. I like to appear it, but I'm not. It's just one of those days...

Nothing fits together, nothing fits anywhere, I don't fit. I don't know...

Somehow Murdock has the ability to put me back together when I'm apart.

Think of speeding along a narrow country road at nights with no lights on. That's me. Murdock's the one who pulls the clouds from the moon so I see at least a little. I have no idea how he does it but...

Need to go.


respectively, there's a companion piece: "Lights out" - soon to come.