How irritating. Everytime I hear a dark voice with a touch of accent, I think of him. Why, I wonder, is he buried so deep in my soul? What in my celestial being did he move? It's downright rude! To be so close to my secret self, despite of everything he's done.
Furthermore, why do I only remember him? Maggiore I can forgive. Frater I can forget, but why does he linger? Why do they all linger? Have I not made my peace with them? Did I leave a crack open at my door allowing their sap to flow continously?
How sure I was that it was all over, that I never had to see him again. Heavens, how irritating. Furiating, really. Except I won't allow myself to have such an emotional convulsion. Not for his idiocracy, anyway. I never fully approved his way of life, not then, not now. However, there was, I believe, a time when I thought there was good in him. He refused my reason. He claimed I never believed anything of the sort. Thickheaded, that's my reply.
He looks older everytime I see him, although it's been a long while now, thank goodness. Out of curiosity, I sometimes wonder what the devil he has done to make his face so worn, his manner so undiginfied. I don't see what I would do with such intelligence. I do not have the power to make him see reason. I really don't see why I want to know. Curiosity, I guess. Poor cat. Perhaps ignorance is bliss, or content, at least.
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