Once a friend, a sort of friend I used to know a long time ago, started visiting me. Frequently.

I was lonely, he was persistent - so I went to bed with him. We had a strange sort of relationship - lots of sex, a little romance, with politics a big factor.

Eventually he became angry; at me, at the world. We couldn't stop it, whatever it was we had, but we both hated it. We?d fight, we?d make-up. It foundered and died. I think we realized we were just using each other - even now I don't like to think of it.

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Fate reunited us.

He was lonely, he was persistent - so I went to bed with him, again. He was hurting and wanted more from me than I had to give. He wanted to define our relationship, I couldn?t.

My level of passion for him was enormous, it took over my life, yet I didn't like him any more.

I actually despised his way of dealing with me, politics, the world. I'm sure he I'm sure he felt the same about me.

Then, when I fucked up and sorely needed him, he ignored me.

I never want to see him again.

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