Infatuation

My Tutu, temporarily.              

Suppies Readers 

This oncoming post, at the least is an extension of the previous post...'Tutu'. 

It's been over a week now since we last exchanged words, an unnecessarily stretched-out week it has been indeed. Night after night, right before I slip away into the demented nightmares that define who I am, I softly whisper "Goodnight Tutu" .Why do I do this? I guess wishing Tutu an awesome night wherever he may be, no matter what he is doing and whom so ever he is fucking I want him to enjoy it.Just because I wished it so. Insanity? Perhaps, I've never really questioned it before. I also am far too proud to say it to him, via social media. You see, I absolutely loath being ignored. I simply cannot stomach it, but unfortunately our subject of choice, Tutu read the last message I sent him and yet he failed to reply to me. So I kept it at that. Obviously concluding that he had moved on (of which I do not blame him) and had forgotten about me already. Pursuing romances and basically just doing him.

This was not the case.

How do I know?

I have a problem, I give chances. Chances to bums that don't deserve them.

Chances to idiots that keep wronging me.

To the point were I have to scrape for one last chance for the unworthy individual, followed by the horrors of my conscience. That haunt me. Harassing me mentally. 

This is not the case with Tutu. 

Tutu is in Cape Town. I am in Johannesburg. 

There is no chance to give.

End of the month, we agreed on. The due date, that temporarily puts a halt to our social communication. Until we meet again. 

In many years to come.

A peaceful departure. For two young hearts to lead the path they were destined to travel on, and if our paths cross again...

I am afraid that I will not let go.

Not again.

Gran(^•^)Dad