Hath Any Loved You Well
_Marius speaks..._
In the end, I was actually glad she was dead. No, no, I don't mean to sound like a callous monster, but it was actually a relief, because you don't know what it's like. To have her sad, wistful eyes follow me everywhere I went. To see her face, when I looked upon another. To hear her voice, _Monsieur Marius..._ It was too much.
And now she is dead.
Oh, I did not pray for her death. I am not as cruel as that. But how many times did I wish, that just once, she would not be lurking behind me? When did I _want_, really _want_, to look into her hollow eyes and see her love there for me, taking up the emptiness, washing it away? I did not deserve such adoration. Not even from Cosette.
Because I am only human.
I used to believe I was immortal, that youth would never die. I believed in life, and friendship, and revolution. I believed in myself. Now I believe in nothing, although I have everything to live for. Nothing, however, is always good. It ups the ante.
Eponine had something to live for, and just look what happened to her.
Sometimes I miss her-the way she laughed, the sweet quirk of her smile. I know she did things for me, in my name, when I was not there. I know she loved me, and made me her world. But it was out of desperation, and therefore, _merde_. Shit. I have no respect for shit. And even less for Eponine.
Such blind worship frightens me.
So rest, dear Eponine, in your patch of earth. Let the flowers grow over it, and comfort you in the way my arms could not, and never did. Cradled in the bosom of the dust, dear Eponine, cry out your agony. It no longer affects me here.
And remind me why, oh why, it is easier to pity than to despise you. For I am short on memory.
And you are dead.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------"Les Mis" is copyright to Victor Hugo. Used without permission. Besides, the copyright's kind of defunct, isn't it? It's been 150 years. And Victor Hugo is dead. ;) Anyways. They're still his characters, Marius and Eponine.
_Marius speaks..._
In the end, I was actually glad she was dead. No, no, I don't mean to sound like a callous monster, but it was actually a relief, because you don't know what it's like. To have her sad, wistful eyes follow me everywhere I went. To see her face, when I looked upon another. To hear her voice, _Monsieur Marius..._ It was too much.
And now she is dead.
Oh, I did not pray for her death. I am not as cruel as that. But how many times did I wish, that just once, she would not be lurking behind me? When did I _want_, really _want_, to look into her hollow eyes and see her love there for me, taking up the emptiness, washing it away? I did not deserve such adoration. Not even from Cosette.
Because I am only human.
I used to believe I was immortal, that youth would never die. I believed in life, and friendship, and revolution. I believed in myself. Now I believe in nothing, although I have everything to live for. Nothing, however, is always good. It ups the ante.
Eponine had something to live for, and just look what happened to her.
Sometimes I miss her-the way she laughed, the sweet quirk of her smile. I know she did things for me, in my name, when I was not there. I know she loved me, and made me her world. But it was out of desperation, and therefore, _merde_. Shit. I have no respect for shit. And even less for Eponine.
Such blind worship frightens me.
So rest, dear Eponine, in your patch of earth. Let the flowers grow over it, and comfort you in the way my arms could not, and never did. Cradled in the bosom of the dust, dear Eponine, cry out your agony. It no longer affects me here.
And remind me why, oh why, it is easier to pity than to despise you. For I am short on memory.
And you are dead.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------"Les Mis" is copyright to Victor Hugo. Used without permission. Besides, the copyright's kind of defunct, isn't it? It's been 150 years. And Victor Hugo is dead. ;) Anyways. They're still his characters, Marius and Eponine.