Pax encompasses me. He always has. Every dark, angry, ugly part of him, wrapped up in such a devilishly beautiful package. He’s hostile and he’s hateful, and he wields his anger like a blade. There is nothing good about him. But when I’m with him, I can let go. I don’t think anymore. I don’t rage against my own inner pain. The waking nightmares that plague me every second of the day have no power over me in his presence. I used to crave him because of how he looked. Because of how he made me feel. Now, I crave him because, around him, I can surrender. I can feel nothing at all.
