And It All Came Pouring Out
Do not expect to hear a happy ending at the end of this story. As much as I love seeing your pained expressions at the end of my tales, I must warn you just this once. Though a cynic to the core I may be, I am no monster. And no such people have no happy endings.
I had hurt everyone, myself included. I had made him, my reason for existence, hurt endlessly. He thirsted for my blood.
My life had ended; I had decided it. And I ran, never looked back, and never cared for those who had left chunks of my heart in their fists. But he'd always have my heart.
Perhaps there is a less tragic way to tell my story, but such stories have no effect. Be warned once more, friends; I intend on leaving you cold hearted when my tale is told. Now, where shall I begin? Shall I start with how I met the boy and fell in love, or should I start my own demise? One might argue that they are the same scene, but my heart feels no pain anymore. I promised myself that I'd only feel as long as I believed. There is nothing to believe in anymore. I had stopped believing a long time ago. Life has no meaning now.
I had been a reckless youth. I had been consumed in my pathetic dreams, as most young people do. No one had ever told me that dreams don't come true. He had broken my heart, hurt my pride. Feelings are fickle obstacles that get in the way of our sight. We are born to live pitiable lives.
All these years later, it pains me to see how naïve I had been. I lived for him and without him I will not exist. But he'd always have my soul.
As I sit here, though a cynic he had turned me, I cannot help but smile. For your own sanity, I shall add but one happy detail to my story. Though love was more scary and painful then anything I had ever imagined, it was the best goddamn I could ever feel. He had made me whole. But let my remind you, children, this is not a happy story. Such people have no happy endings. I deserve no happy ending.
There had been a point in my life that troubled me deeply. Shall I spare you the disturbing details? Details are vacillating, ever changing as I age. My out look on life, for example, is poor. My words are wise, so let it be known: life is a just a funeral for the dreams that won't come true. We dig our own graves with realities we refuse to accept. I refused to accept that he would never leave me. So I left with the wind, never caring to look back for the man I left behind. Though I lie in Jacob's arms, he will never been enough. Edward was my everything.
He threw rocks at my window and I threw daggers at his heart.
All the while, I was tearing us apart.