31-01-2010, 03:11 PM
Yes, it’s another short story from your favourite romanticist! Comments and crits are appreciated as always.
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Reflections
Everything in this world must come to an end. And so, it is of no great loss if one thing ends earlier than it is due. It’s lucky, really, that I don’t believe in any type of god, otherwise I’d be damned for what I’m about to do.
I first saw you what must have been three years ago, on a harsh September morning. It was apparent to me then that you were something different: your radiance – not only your physical beauty but your personality as well – shone out from everybody else in the crowds with a lustre that I had never seen before, and have never seen since. I don’t really know what drew me to you other than that, but it is safe to say that we are certainly amicable nowadays.
And yet, what I truly yearn for, that secret that I hold absolutely closest to my heart, is for love. My dear, I so desperately want to love you: there is not a moment that I do not spend where my heart is not aching for it! And yet our differences, and at the same time, and for much the same reason, our similarities, forbid it.
And there is no clear solution to my problem.
People continuously tell me of my potential – what I could be – yet I do not want to be those things. I want to be a writer – painting my thoughts in marvellous allegories with words so beautiful. I want to be a musician – captivating people with the emotion that my music so vibrates with. But most of all, I want to be a lover: your lover. I want to take your hand into mine, and press my lips against yours, and talk and laugh with you, drunk with pure, magnificent love.
But, alas, these things I will never have nor be. Through my own decision now, and through nature’s decision over you, they are impossibilities.
And so as I put down one tool, and pick up another, the time has come for me. For while one writes with ink and transmits thoughts and emotion, the other writes with blood and spreads nothing but death, hard and cold like the steely shell it is encased in.
And as I put this gun to my head, I want you to know one more thing. I love you. I have always loved you. I love you more than words or the human tongue can describe, more than life itself. And that’s why I do this now. To save you from myself. I bid you to live your life to the fullest, to make the most of what has been given to you. Go into the world and impress people with the same lustre that you showed me. It has been an honour to know you. But now, I must say goodbye. Forever. I must leave this cruel planet and take flight into the unknown. So thus, goodbye. Goodbye, my love: my dear, eternal love.
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Reflections
Everything in this world must come to an end. And so, it is of no great loss if one thing ends earlier than it is due. It’s lucky, really, that I don’t believe in any type of god, otherwise I’d be damned for what I’m about to do.
I first saw you what must have been three years ago, on a harsh September morning. It was apparent to me then that you were something different: your radiance – not only your physical beauty but your personality as well – shone out from everybody else in the crowds with a lustre that I had never seen before, and have never seen since. I don’t really know what drew me to you other than that, but it is safe to say that we are certainly amicable nowadays.
And yet, what I truly yearn for, that secret that I hold absolutely closest to my heart, is for love. My dear, I so desperately want to love you: there is not a moment that I do not spend where my heart is not aching for it! And yet our differences, and at the same time, and for much the same reason, our similarities, forbid it.
And there is no clear solution to my problem.
People continuously tell me of my potential – what I could be – yet I do not want to be those things. I want to be a writer – painting my thoughts in marvellous allegories with words so beautiful. I want to be a musician – captivating people with the emotion that my music so vibrates with. But most of all, I want to be a lover: your lover. I want to take your hand into mine, and press my lips against yours, and talk and laugh with you, drunk with pure, magnificent love.
But, alas, these things I will never have nor be. Through my own decision now, and through nature’s decision over you, they are impossibilities.
And so as I put down one tool, and pick up another, the time has come for me. For while one writes with ink and transmits thoughts and emotion, the other writes with blood and spreads nothing but death, hard and cold like the steely shell it is encased in.
And as I put this gun to my head, I want you to know one more thing. I love you. I have always loved you. I love you more than words or the human tongue can describe, more than life itself. And that’s why I do this now. To save you from myself. I bid you to live your life to the fullest, to make the most of what has been given to you. Go into the world and impress people with the same lustre that you showed me. It has been an honour to know you. But now, I must say goodbye. Forever. I must leave this cruel planet and take flight into the unknown. So thus, goodbye. Goodbye, my love: my dear, eternal love.