I believe this is the third time I've written this, or at
least attempted to. However, unlike
previous attempts which stemmed from either despair or festering distress, today
is a still lake. I'm not sure if I'm calm or just unable to feel anything.
The question of my sanity has hurt the only person in the
world I am afraid to lose.
He who has been nothing but truthful even when reality had set the odds against us;
I doubted his existence.
Dissipated trust?
Continuous descending madness?
None of which could begin to rationalise the damage I have begotten.
No act of contrition, no matter how far out, could repair the bridge I have set aflame.
Should he decide to let go, as shall I.
I hope that life spares him further misery,
and instead shower him with gifts he's earned,
starting with the wholesome wellbeing of Apphia.
Should the universe decide otherwise, I swear that my ghost will wring its neck and drown it in a sea of grief it has caused.
He who has been nothing but truthful even when reality had set the odds against us;
I doubted his existence.
Dissipated trust?
Continuous descending madness?
None of which could begin to rationalise the damage I have begotten.
No act of contrition, no matter how far out, could repair the bridge I have set aflame.
Should he decide to let go, as shall I.
I hope that life spares him further misery,
and instead shower him with gifts he's earned,
starting with the wholesome wellbeing of Apphia.
Should the universe decide otherwise, I swear that my ghost will wring its neck and drown it in a sea of grief it has caused.
I'd ask for forgiveness, but I don't see how it could ever happen.
Christ, Denny, what have I done to you? I am so, so sorry.
