I looked at him and realized that I really needed to start thinking about people in terms of how they treat knowledge and so, understanding how they perceive the world and what that perception does to them.

‘I think you should marry me’ He said and in that same moment I accepted that I could never have said yes. That really, if we were going to be dramatic about it, if he was a Raskolnikov then I was not a Sonya and certainly not his. The meekness of the earth never did appeal to me. He needed someone to guide him through to redemption, someone to allow him to forgive himself for being less than superhuman. I was simply not selfless enough.

So and therefore my mind’s eye travelled to the east, to somewhere four hours ahead of my existence and to a potential Razumikhin who actually turned out not to be selfless either (how selfless was Razumikhin anyway? Compared to Raskolnikov anyone would look like a saint) Not quite a Raskolnikov but with the superhuman tendency to not require redemption just yet and with a Sonya to come home to and that is exactly why he felt like he didn’t deserve her at this moment in time.

The only noble thing to do, it seemed to me, was to talk to him in a series of broken, jarring text messages that never ever did our conversation justice.

‘This is such a difficult conversation to have, the conversation of you and I. But if I had to write about it I’d say we met on a delusional trip, our relationship was the aftermath of that delusion and that all delusions eventually fade to sobriety and a quiet room.’

And so it wasn’t that girl you genuinely liked that forced me to stamp an expiry date on our relationship. It was the fact that after the colours dimmed, the lights shattered and the music mellowed, when it was just you and me, left alone in a dark, silent room we found that we had nothing real left to say to each other after all.

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