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Saturday, October 17, 2009

A queer love story

I join the dots and she is making her hair. I assemble the pieces and she puts on her dress. She looks wonderful right now and I feel like smiling. So I start crying as I think of all that I lost. She is standing now and she is crying because I asked her to marry me. I knew she would say yes, so I bought her an orchid. There is something about a girl who cries that makes her all the more beautiful. Of course, I told her this, to which she slapped me. I said ouch and she said sorry. We held hands as we jumped through the streets and into the restaurant. They served food there, which was better than it had ever been - simply because I had made the food. I lied, we did not go out, we stayed in and we ate well. We saw a movie that made her smile and that made me laugh. "O look! Where have we come to!!"
She never thought that there would be such a day, but here it was and here we were. Holding hands, as she lay in my lap and I thought of a time that had passed us by too long ago. Back then, things were uncertain, and uncertainty breeds angst; and so, as she recalls, both of us were sad. However, she had her dreams - she wanted to be a sorceress and I wanted to be a janitor. That was all that we wanted and if that had been the path we had chosen, things would have been drastically different. I thank luck that brought the two of us together on that safari. She relinquished her desires to be that witch and instead decided to be a bitch. She treated me horribly, to which I realised that I should not be a janitor for, in order to tackle her down I would have needed to be powerful.
So be it. That is what brought me to be this man that I am today.
I stroke her hair and she falls asleep. She is dreaming of us, I can tell. Why? Because I see her grinning and scowling. That is what she has always been.
My back was aching when she woke up because she had been sleeping for 10 hours straight and I did not feel like waking her up. This is me. She slapped me with a frying pan so I was out cold.
Now I sleep next to her as she reads a book. It is called "Roads to the Abyss"
51 years and 26 days from now, she dies.
I try living for a few days and I realise that although I could, there was no particular reason to my existence. I had created all that I wanted to and these past few years it was mostly the time spent with her that made me wake up each morning.
So I took a life killer medicine and I killed myself.
That's that.

I wonder who makes the food in the house now.

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