Waking to a cool September morning. The scent of rain lingers in the air. 

It is Friday morning, 5am. I am sipping coffee and beginning the day. It has been an interesting week. My belly is calming down and returning to normalcy. 

Interactions with the magical blue eyed vanishing man have been sluggish  and strange to say the least. Plans to meet on Monday were met with death threats by Prince Otter. I waited in town for him to arrive and  finally returned home. Later I received a message that when he attempted to leave, PO said he would kill himself. Plans were made for Tuesday. Tuesday arrived, again a no show. The reason was given that PO had driven the car over a log while parking and it was stuck. Plans were made for Wednesday. He showed up. We met at Sbux and chatted slightly as another friend was there. James had an obligation downtown and asked me to go with him. I did. We had dinner with another friend which was lovely- it had been a while since i enjoyed a good Thai meal.We left dinner and went to the botanical gardens at UNCA. It was dark, We talked. He played the guitar for me and sang a new dark, sad song. The discrepancies in his tale and inconsistencies were discussed. 

He spoke of being scared and of running. He spoke of loving me, He told of fear and trying to care for PO. He said he missed m. We kissed. The spark was still there. He returned to Home on the Hill with me. We talked and held each other. The feeling of being held by him and of holding him was wonderful. The weirdness of the two previous weeks melted away. There lingered on him a strange chemical smell and taste that I can not identify. Sleeping next to him was peaceful and calming. 

We awoke to begin my day. He is not a morning person and in fact would like nothing more than to sleep until noon or later, and stay up until the wee hours. His incoherent rant about mornings, dreams and life at 6 am were amusing, albeit dark. His forecast for humanities is tinted by his dreams that foresee a mass extinction, death and disease. Something switched in route and he gabbed my hand, repeatedly thanked me and told me that he loved me. We shared beverages at Sbux before I headed to work. We discussed getting together after  work and him staying with me again tonight. 

The work day was difficult as the previous days waking hours far outweighed the rest. I trudged on. At lunch I noticed I had missed a call. I called him and he state she had butt dialed me. We chatted. He said he was going to interact with PO and help him get into treatment on the condition that he wrote a letter discussing a desire for sobriety. He asked that I stay in town because he would like to see me after work.

I arrived at Sbux like normal and met with a friend, and then another. I tried to call a few times and he did not answer. I ran some errands and around 6:30 headed home. He called and we chatted. The demeanor and words were completely changed. Our paths were different. He loved me but not romantically. I asked about how he could change so quickly from this morning and this afternoons reassurances of love to his newfound utterances of contradictions. He is twenty and his moods are shifted by the omens and interactions of his world.  Plans were made for Saturday. I asked forgiveness for having expectations. He said I was helping him to be a better human.

So I sip my coffee and realize that I am venturing into this with the idea that maybe this time will be different. Einsteins words come to mind about insanity. I guess I have a better understanding about being crazy in love. My rational brain says run like hell and my heart intercede with the advice to love him, and be patient.  I am stuck somewhere in the middle. I am also realizing that if I decide to continue with this interactions I need to find a higher level of acceptance when his words and actions are not congruent. I need also remind my self frequently that I am interacting with a being whose life experiences are different than my own and that the 26 spins around the sun that separate us are in fact real. 

I thank the universe for the lessons, the teachers, the experiences. I see that having a 20 year old boyfriend is not a good idea, and that having a 20 year lover could be. How to separate my heart from my groin, as they have tended to run in unison for the span of my adult years. He is a beautiful man with whom I have connected. He is a teacher. I am the student. Acceptance is the answer... it is as it is....

So I've been attempting to maintain some sort of relationship with Cirrus. I care for him- beyond sexually-

I must remind myself that I joined into an interaction with a twenty year old. And while he is intelligent on some levels, he is ignorant on others and lacks life experiences to date merely limited by his age and upbringing. He is a beautiful child of God and he is also damaged. I am saddened thinking of the pain he carries inside.

Our last few interactions have been strained, as I grapple with feeling deeply for him and the fact that it is not reciprocated. I have concerns for his safety and well being and that is a liability to him. My concern prevented him from struggling, or so I was told last night. And that concern is another reason for his behavior and resentment of me. It was also revealed that what had been an infedelity with Prince Otter while he was "committed to being committed" to me and us, is now in reality a regular sexual interaction. There is a bond called love forged through their mutual homelessness and struggle.

What was revealed during our last interaction of him joining a couple as the third wheel has now morphed yet again in a short span of time.

It feels as though he does not wish for us to remain close as I had hoped. My feelings for him - that he is more than a hustler looking for sex and a meal- are met with defiance and contempt.

He appears to drop a new bomb each time we interact. He has grown cold and distant. He weaves words that create such beautiful images- the fibers have no substance however and so the creation is flimsy and falls apart easily when observed.

He remains an enigma. I swear there is a diagnosis or two in the DSM besides the autism he indicates.

These past interactions remind me of reading "The Unquiet Mind."

After our parting last night I received a series of texts. I've transcribed them here for future reference. I really wish I had recorded these past few conversations and could more accurately weigh them against the period of July through September-

"The only person that means anything if everything means something is yourself. He is the only one that will really stay by you til the end. We all die alone.

It's a lot easier to simply be grateful you're alive than care that someone else is worried that you are not dead. The only thing anyone cares about is themselves. Seeking fulfillment from me is the same as seeking it through sex or drugs. It is ultimately impermanent.

Gaze into the abyss that is father sky when his children are smiling and you remember that you are but so small. The interactions here on earth are so pathetic really minuet that there really isn't any reason to them."

I am baffled.

A beautiful Autumnal day has unfolded- it began on the porch with screech owls and crickets and will be closing in a similar manner...

I have avoided writing this week as I lick my wounds and vacillate between acceptance and frustration. I still smell his scent on clothes. If I close my eyes, I can feel the embrace that seemed to at least temporarily repair all the broken pieces. I miss it. It has been a week of no contact. I miss him and still find myself wondering if  he is safe, fed, and has shelter. I am ok until I contemplate what he does in order to obtain those things, and then I am saddened and my heart aches even more. Nothing like picking at a scab to prolong the healing. There is a certain twisted satisfaction in such endeavors.

Yesterday found me burning the 8 volumes of journals I had kept with Michael. They chronicled our 2+ years together. They were a form of hostage taking for me- I got mad if he didn't write in the book. My drunken control freak wanting constant reassurances demanded of him that he read what I wrote and respond. Not a healthy game, not a fair game, and not a thing to do to someone you love. Fear of losing him and us drove me to the depths of despair. Adding drugs and alcohol onto that simmering madness was sometimes explosive. So I loaded them into the fire pit, doused them in gasoline and struck a match. A tinge of sadness came and then a great sense of release- as though I had somehow severed a bond that kept us bound to a time and place. I gave up the ghost on a beautiful day at the close of summer. I set him and I both free.

It is Sunday. Tomorrow is the Equinox. Fall is already hinting of its presence as the poplars drop leaves and the dogwoods begin to turn red. The temperature is dipping lower at night, the slant of sunlight has changed. It won't be long until the forest is devoid of color and the starkness of winter descends.

The day found me being extremely lazy. I left the house late afternoon to obtain cigarettes and petrol. I have begged out on the porch for hours on end today. I have however, continued to complete at least thirty sit ups and a few reps of planks each day, often twice a day. I am feeling the burn, and might be seeing a little definition begin to take form. I am not sure I desire ripped abs, but a more toned body would be nice. 

So I ask the universe to guide my thoughts and actions each day, to help them be divorced of anger, resentment, jealousy, and self seeking motivations. I say thank you at the close of each day for the gifts bestowed. It seems to be working a little magic in my day, although I can quickly offset any gains by not remembering to eat, being tired, angry or lonely. I also am remembering that I can reset the day at any moment- thank you Scott C...your advice when I was a drunk still rings clear in my ears, and has worked its magic for a few years now.

I close the day and smile. I remain. I remain connected. I remain willing to learn. These all come together and seem to be vital ingredients to a relatively sane and purposeful life.

Waking to a cool September morning. Thoughts of a young man are on my mind. My belly is still in an uproar. 

It seems that my fun summer fling has come grindingly to a halt. No communication beyond what appeared as a drunk text on Friday night has left me scratching my head.  It was a fun 6 weeks, it taught me a lot about the generosity of young spirits, the joys of lovingly running my fingers through my lovers hair, the passions ignited and how night can quickly become morning when you sleep and wake next to a person with whom you love. The jump into silence has been hurtful and has really lacked any transition, although I sensed its approach. I had hoped that the 26 years between our experiences could be bridged by communication. While all of this sounds good in theory, its day to day integration into lives and circumstances seems more daunting and difficult. The youthful spirit and vitality and their subsequent pursuit of ideals held dear do not really make a lasting union possible. 

So he moves into the category of the amazing vanishing men- joining the ranks of a few other men with whom I have known and felt strongly about over the past nearly seven years. I smile mostly. I am sad, but try to cling to the gratitude of the experiences shared.

A holiday weekend is closing. Monday morning finds me sipping coffee and listening to Spotify. The coffee shop station is tugging at my heart strings as the playlist reminds me of James. The acoustic guitars, the lyrics. I can't help but wonder where he is, whats going on, where is he sleeping, has he eaten...The silence is deafening. My experience has taught me and shown me that praying is all I can do in such situations. The serenity prayer comes to mind, and how nearly seven years ago I clung to it, recited it to the point that I thought it would break. God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference... I must accept anything outside of myself. I am all that I can change. I do not always possess the wisdom to know the difference...Grace enters the equation sometimes and I find peace. 

Watching a brigade of butterflies, as swarms of clouds pass by. The words of many unanswered questions bounce around as I ask myself, "why?" Shadows dance, I feel the trance, as sunlight appears and vanishes. I feel hypnotized by sunbeams filtered through green leaves. They surround me, warm me and entice me. The cicadas hum and the bees fly by. I sit and stare blankly at the clouds and sky. The hammock in filtered sunlight, music in my ears. The embrace of the wind, comforting through the years. It speaks to me of being willing. Of trying something new. Of taking a chance I had not considered viable, when logic advises against it.

The ocean between our shores is vast and yet if I close my eyes, I am stepping ashore. In some dreams I am embraced as I enter the other land. In some dreams I am greeted by hostility or indifference. This makes the journey confusing. The coastline changes quickly. The sand bars shift. I see the wreckage of the crossings that came before. Stranded, bewildered. I try to avoid the reefs and find safe passage.

I am reminded by the songs in the wind that safety is not guaranteed, that disembarking in a strange land can hold danger. Like the songs on the wind, your siren song carries to my ears. Urging me forward with little heart gifts, kindnesses, passion, kisses, and desire. I disregarded the warning signs and ventured forward.

The kind, strong wind has now ceased. I am floating aimlessly. The shore, like a mirage, torments me, telling of love and laughter and of being sated and content. Yet in this tranquility, I am neither satisfied or content. So I pause, and wait for the return of the prevailing wind and trust that it will steer me in the direction I am intended to go. I do not know the outcome, only that I can not push the ocean. I can trust that all is and will be exactly as it is intended to be.

This thought brings me solace- that a spark has ignited a long dead torch. That torch was once used to light the sacred temple of love. And while the torch is lit and I see differently, the landscape is new. The priest of this realm is striking and short on years. He speaks a familiar language, and yet some words have seemingly lost their meaning in time. The temple is far off and overgrown. I hear of it's existence and feel the tug of distant memories. The priest plays his songs, picking at strings and pulling chords that sear my scared soul. Those scars are where the light enters I remember reading.

The ritual is underway. Silence prevails. No words are spoken and I grasp to decipher the meaning. My alms are accepted. My adoration seen. Passions ignited. And still there is a longing for meaning.

That longing brings me back to my ship. Sitting in calm water. Sunlight and supplies abound. I am in great abundance, even when my desire tells me otherwise.

It is Sunday again. I reach out to James. He agrees to meet- he has a show at 2:30. We share coffee and strained conversation. He is preoccupied - 

He asks me to go with him to the show. I desire to see him play so I go. It is a ManKind ceremony to welcome initiates. James and Kris don't end up playing. I again am left to fend for myself in an unfamiliar place. The ceremony progresses. We eat. James and Kris play with the equipment, he looks and acts like a child. It is joyful to watch and hear. My desire is strong. The antibiotics are wrecking my belly. My GI track is a mess. I stopped the antibiotics yesterday after the GI issues arrived on Wednesday night.

They wrap up and James and I return in my car to Sbux. He is playful and flirty. He has obligated himself to busk with Kris. He is torn to come home with me. He is obligated to busk. He goes inside Sbux to change clothes. I am miserable, about to explode. I head home. 

In retrospect, this was the last time I saw him for a few weeks. The last time he stirred passion as he played with my chest. I miss him. I miss our conversations, our embracing, our lovemaking, our kissing for hours. He is a wonderful lover. 

The abcessed  tooth has led to what feels like shingles... it has been 15 years. The tooth is still bothering me after my 10 day run of antibiotics after the urgent care visit and dentist. The dentist sent me to a specialist, which I will see on the 28th. The nerves are angry on the upper left part of my face. I miss work and go to the doctor. He thinks shingles returning. He gave me the meds for arresting shingles and gave me another antibiotic for the tooth. I am so uncomfortable. The doctor gave me a note for work- I wouldn't be returning until Friday.

I met James afterwards. We got him some used tires as his threadbare ones had wire sticking out of them. He stopped by the bird sanctuary. I took some photos of him on the tree. He lost his lighter on the big tree. He whisked me away to Earth-haven as a way to get me into a stress-free environment, promising a soak in a stream, quiet time alone.

The sentiment and thought behind going were lovely. I tried to decline, he seemed hurt by my hesitation, so I acquiesced. We went in his car. We drove to Old Fort and went through Crooked Creek on our way. Earthhaven is located near the old Camp Elliott where I retreated as a runaway to stay with Barry and Linda.

We arrived in time for the Tuesday evening potluck. Food was low, James retreated repeatedly and left me feeling very alone. It was crowded, I was surrounded by people I did not know. After dinner we walked with Prince Otter through the compound. James wanted to swim and Keith wanted to keep going. I felt lost. We did end up skinny dipping which was nice. My discomfort was grating and still I tried to be present and engaged. I really just wanted to sleep.

We ended up at Keith's place. James and I were to share a bed downstairs. It was chaotic, as Keith played on his computer situated on a desk at the head of the bed. James got lost in a game. Again I felt lost and uncomfortable.  I was edgy, out of my normal comfort place.  The evening drug on until midnight. Retreating to the porch to smoke, I was in awe of the sky above. The Milky Way was magnificent.  I wanted to share it with him, but the game had his attention. At bedtime James and I spoke and I tried to relay my situation; he was hurt by my words and did not understand my conveyances of discomfort on every level made worse by my face. Sleep was not peaceful. We were each restless. It felt good being with him, the air was thick with angst, which killed any peaceful or tranquil feelings.

Morning held an obligation for working on the Sanctuary- a former cob structure that was being repurposed by being wrapped in wire and concreted. I helped as I was able by mixing concrete. We had agreed to be heading back into town by 2. It was fascinating to see the place, to see how structures could be built and reused. It distracted me from my dis-ease. James and Keith worked, we finished up and Keith made some yummy food. I assisted Kris cut up tomatoes while Keith got cleaned up. James vanished and again left me alone. I was hurt- here I was in a very strange place, left to fend for myself. The man whom I followed here seemed clueless and unconcerned. He grew more and more distant. The ride back to town was strained- cramped as four men, luggage and several guitars were all crammed into a car. Looking at my wallet I realized that I had $26 left out of the $200 I had made at Packs. I swear I don't know how I managed to spend that much. I felt defeated, abandoned and broke.

We parted ways on that Wednesday late afternoon at Starbucks. We got back around 5:30. I tried the best I could to apologize for being so  uncomfortable, but I swear he didn't get it. He hasn't had shingles- he doesn't understand that I wanted to peel my face off, to claw my eyes out of their sockets. 

I came home and laid low Thursday. No word from him unless I initiated it. No queries as to my well being. I was left to contemplate our time together. My concern for his safety, well being and being in general are still here- but I am left feeling like it is extremely one sided.  Red flags are waving and still I care, still I find myself loving this young man. I feel him walking away. I do not wish to see him go. What do I do?