Each step I have taken lead me to where I've now been. On that stage several nights ago and now having to listen to a self-centred and self-critical woman complain about anything and everything under the sun. She talks about wanting to change yet does nothing to put these changes in action. It's all for attention and it's given to her so willingly.

Slowly, I've pulled myself away from the group. Not a single soul seems to have notices or even bothered to reach out. I learned where I stand in that group. And they called me the self-centred one of the group. I never even had a word in on any of the conversations and have hardly been invited to any social events.

The past few days of going no contact has been a rollercoaster of emotions. All the pain in the world manifested in a multitude of ways. Pure fucking emotional agony to put it as lightly as possible.

However, there are better things in store. Losing the weight of feather-disguised stones has never felt so freeing before. It's like the wight of the sun has been lifted off of me. It's a beautiful feeling to have been gifted. I wonder how long it will take them to realise that I've essentially disappeared from their lives.

The image of the man from several nights ago resurfaces again in my mind. I feel a push to find him again. However, that push seems to be constant. I can't really explain it, either. Words escape me. He seemed to mesmerised that night, entranced. As was I by him. Why didn't I reach my hand out to him that night? He looked like he could have been royalty. Even though he is nowhere near me, I can feel him in every breath I take.

He. I don't know who he is yet something about him seemed to familiar. I couldn't place it, no matter how hard I tried. He looked as though he'd just woke up, too. He seemed so content, too, sleepily content. I hoped I would find him again. Who was he, this beautiful man? He who haunts my waking and sleeping moments. I needed to know, I had to know.

More importantly, I had to find him first in order to know who he was. That is, if he allowed himself to be found. If not, then I'll surly leave it be. Let life take its course. Maybe he'd be the one to do the searching. Maybe he was already searching. Maybe it was mutual. A mutual curiosity of one another that would remain unknown for a time.

He wandered so close to the stage to see me only to flee after my set ended. Was it my singing that drew him in? Would it work again? Was I simply his own personal siren? Maybe I would unknowingly lead him to his own demise. I couldn't live with myself should that come to fruition.

He was inhumanly beautiful. That's all I knew of him so far. If I sang while on my nightly walk, would he find me again? And would be be alright, too? He looked lost that night, the expression on his face gave it all away when he came into the venue. Was he still lost? I can't help but to wonder these things. Curiosity often gets the best of me. It's landed me in some rather unsavoury situations.

As night closes in again, I get ready to walk. It's a ritualistic habit I cannot seem to break. It's often been a comfort to be able to escape to the nighttime, to the world asleep. Well, what parts of the world around me that sleep. Myriads of others awake and wander about aimlessly. Or maybe they go in early to work.

On this night, I hear distant chants. Churchly chants, I assume. I can never be too sure of it, though. It could be anything. I find myself adding my own words to the chants ever so silently, on auto-pilot. I follow the chants, though, and they lead me to a long abandoned chapel. I hesitate to walk in for fear of being spotted or attacked.

But that fear is quelled the moment I step in over the threshold. On the outside, it looked dark and as if it were falling apart. The roof looked caved in but when I walked in, it looked bright with candle light and unharmed by time. With his back towards me, there he stands. He's attention is on the crucified Jesus hung on the wall.

He is unharmed, I know he is. He knows I've been lead here. Here where the chants have been the loudest. Here where he is. He turns around and jumps just a bit, as if shocked or frightened that I've found my way here to him. His expression softens as he steps down from the podium and walks towards me.

He reaches his arms out to me, his hands shake as he reaches to touch my face. Almost instinctively, I take his hand in mine and he seems to be calmed by this. Gradually, I lead his hand to the side of my face. The expression on his face reads as though he wants to cry tears of happiness.

He pulls me close to him and wraps his arms around me as though we are long lost lovers. Maybe we are. Could we be or were we destined to meet in such a way? I feel a sense of safety I'd never felt before. Only in his arms do I feel this safety.