If I had wanted the world, I'm scared you may have delivered. I was only ever a means to your demise, trouble that you had to get into, because that's all you've ever known. And I wish there had been more. I wish that someone would've watched you and told you that you didn't have to be this way. But nobody did and you clung to whatever you knew which wasn't much, just how to sell yourself short. She may have planted hatred inside of you as a boy, but I am what enabled it to grow.

I cannot do this. I don't know what I'm doing. I don't even know what I'm doing that I cannot do anymore. I want to let go, need to let go. This feeling that boils, that lingers, that stirs, it compels me to dig my nails into my skin. Scar my face, maul the beauty that is too much for him to let go of. Because he needs to let go too. We are both monsters that only aim to hurt him. I'd like to say this means that only he is going down, but I've played with fire for far too long.

A mirage is all I'm left with, something that may have been all that ever existed. Were you ever real? Did your skin that felt so graceful on mine, as easy as the air that enters my lungs, did it ever quell that loneliness that threatened to eat me alive on the nights that he was away? Because I swear it was the most real thing I've ever touched and more beautiful than anything I could've written into my stories. This image of your face, both straight and sad, is all that is left.
But I swear there used to be so much more.

And that sick, sad truth is that I need you just the way that you are. I need something that is more lost than I, someone that could never be fixed but challenges me to all the time. So when I say it's okay, I mean it more than you know. I almost wish you were still a boy, too fucked up to even realize you existed.

It is with a heavy heart that I write this, an island of torment that I'm writing myself onto. To be by myself. A place of torrential waves that really mean nothing. It really means nothing. We really meant nothing. And I'm not putting myself here to look out onto a desolate sea that could never be ventured, but to allow myself some time to sit on the coast and think about myself. I never got to do that before.