“I see. Fair enough,” I responded distantly. Therein was another mystery to me; regarding understanding the true nature of individuals- I never could understand why anyone would care at all for my company. God knows I drove myself mad plenty. As it were, after the years had their way with me, I could often act rather coldhearted or indifferent. I frequently sought refuge in the potentially silly notion that somewhere in the chasm of my soul, I still cared for people as I once believed I ought with such blinding conviction.
I grinned in a most probably odd manner as it flashed back through my mind.
With an interminable clarity I could always summon back that eerily cyan world; the night chill, the thick, masking fog, the piercing silence of the catacombs, and the click of the slick cobblestones beneath my feet. In those dark years after my release from its dankest penitentiary of the soul-when I was so unfeeling, and dead by all accounts to society- I still often would play childish games of pretend; Both to interrupt the monotony of everyday purposelessness and to explain away anyone’s misplaced fondness of me.

I would imagine myself to be one of the ignominious, rumored vampires of old London lore; roaming the sordid most parts of the shadow of that city, and advantageous of my supposedly enigmatic charm. I chose to amuse myself filling my pockets purloining drunken sailors, and luring in the countless wayward women of the same courtyards to pass the lonely hours.

However, even such innately satisfying games grew dull, tiresome, and unfulfilling when the Sun again came to rouse the sheeple and hasten forth another rotation of drudgerous duty. I began to feel only increasingly abysmal, weighted, filthy, and alone with every passing night, as though I were slowly becoming one with the grime of that very cobblestone piece board. In the end all I saw were shallow, grimey souls who were bringing forth nothing but time and ruin. Looking Back now, I suppose I did still have a conscience in me, a healthy fear of something authoritative and final out there, just waiting to pounce on me when I was misbehaving. So I left there as well and took to the catacombs for reflection most nights, where I met the closest to a friend I’d had in too long.


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