And now I'm afraid of you, and ever so afraid - of boring you, and more so - of your indifference; and afraid, I suppose, of my sheer lack of tact in having your interests fastened tight - in me. Afraid, I now realize, of myself, unlike what I previously thought. Yes, not you, I'm only afraid I may fail. 

A pest you'll have been, yes, yet while you are ..

Despaired, yet just a fleeting glimpse of melancholy and life in warm embrace - rouses it not hopes of the one final escape from these forsaken depths of existence?