Interlude: Quarantine

Here I am, sleepless again. Here I am, wondering what he's doing. He shines so bright, burning that candle at both ends in his own singular way, and here I am trying to hide from him. I have to resist this, for his sake as well as mine, but I'm convinced that there's a stiffness and calculation in my movements around him that anyone with the eyes to look with can see. I've grown adept at hiding from all but myself; I am the only one who knows my particular set of tells. Nobody else, not even Them. And why am I even bothering to hide from him? I'm certain that he's about as cognizant of my regard as a tree in the forest is of the canker that eats at its neighbor. If I can fight this and win, life will be placid again. If I can fight this and win, there will be that hint of bittersweetness in my life again, but I can survive that. If I can fight this and win... it will be the first time. I am terrified. I can't see any truly good outcome.

Self control. It is all about self control.

So you make your face a mask,
A mask that hides your pain,
A pain that eats your heart,
A heart nobody knows.