I wish I could kill with words. I wish I could gaze upon you with a piercing gaze. I wish I could devour your soul. I wish I could be closer to you, day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute, second by second... If my thoughts took on physical form, you would become my slave. If my thoughts were to retreat even a single step, you would vanish from my mind forever. If I were more sensible, you would have long since died in my mind, and yet... But as it is, you even have your own room inside. You didn't know that, did you? You live in it. You're somewhere in my dreams. Oh, how naive I am. How naive these dreams of mine are. You're in them, you're close. But dreams are too distant a reality for reason to accept.
God doesn't exist. God is dead. Because if it were otherwise, something like solace would be born within me. But I'll never experience it. Too many passions, too many hours spent contemplating. Too much of you in my head. You don't let me function normally, do you? You force me to live in this paranoid state... A state bordering on madness.
Oh... If only I could kill with words. You would have been dead long ago. You would have languished in the depths of my mind's nothingness. To me, you were air. And if it were possible to live in dreams... If it were possible to capture and embody each of them... Oh, one could think like that to one's heart's content, one could be with you at any moment, one could ponder like that for days, hours. One could love like that. To love, but not to love. That feeling is reserved for mere mortals. Because what is love?
I feel differently. Love, it isn't love. Friendship, it isn't friendship. I have my own, imagined feelings that only I understand. There's artificial affection, sick friendship, contagious hatred... It all sounds so human. It's good that it doesn't look human. In the air, particles of feeling pour into my lungs like oxygen... I absorb them greedily. Everything so artificial, everything so toxic.
Mental depression. With or without you. With you in my head, without you in my body. She grabbed a sharp instrument. Unbalanced? It cut her skin. Unbalanced? Brown blood trickled down her cheek. Unbalanced? Tears ran down her cheek... Unbalanced? She cared about nothing. Unbalanced? She took pills. Sleeping pills. Unbalanced? She swallowed the entire contents of the vial. Unbalanced? She fell asleep. Unbalanced? Soothed. Not thinking about you is the only solace for her aching conscience. She closed her pale eyelids. Soothed. She closed her blue lips. She was born again. Soothed. Somewhere in the void, somewhere where you aren't. Somewhere where thoughts don't torment her. Somewhere where she can vegetate to her heart's content. Somewhere where existence is existence for its own sake. Soothed.
Disembodied, spiritual... Filled with toxins and dry air. Like a kite, she flies away amidst a sea of clouds. She greets the moon with kisses and shakes hands with the sun. She has already forgotten about you. She forgot because she had to. Because He and reason willed it. Because her mother, Hope, said otherwise. Because her mother was not a mother. Because she lied to her, sharing her worth. Because her mother killed her.
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