Hey everyone!
So I've watched this incredible movie called 'Inception' and I absolutely loved it. Such a sophisticated, original movie with great characters, played by amazing actors. I suspect you liked it too, since you're here... :P
The movie is very good as it is, but there's always place for some alternative spin-offs. Anyway, this is a little improvisation I've had in mind for a while since I watched the movie. Can get a little depressing and bitter, but that's what it's supposed to be, I guess. It's not that I wish it was this way, it's just an idea...
So basically it's a monologue by Ariadne... The rest is what you read.
Enjoy!
Enough
The first time I met you, you seemed troubled and somewhat in a hurry. Your handshake was very warm and firm, even though it was quite short. One look into your eyes left me somehow confused and a bit worried. I didn't know what I was concerned about, but I felt like I was supposed to be. Your voice strangely vibrated in my chest and it was the most inexplicable sensation I'd ever experienced. You showed me an entirely new world, leaving me perplexed, terrified and hungry for more.
The first time I met him, it was simple. He looked normal and… mentally stable. His voice sounded nice and calm, soft even. It felt easy to speak to him and I wasn't terrified of every move he made. He felt safe, almost like he knew what was going through my mind, what kind of feelings I was experiencing. He explained the world you'd showed me.
I don't know why, but I was constantly drawn to you in spite of everything. I wanted to get to know you, to know everything about you and the more I discovered, the more it fascinated me. The more you revealed, the more I wanted to know. About the world you introduced me to, about your past, about the person you are… Everything about you. At some point, I knew it wasn't healthy for me. It's not like I'm stupid, I knew it could only bring trouble on me. But common sense and logic didn't keep me company as I was swept into the new reality. Curiosity, sense of adventure and compassion – yes, they certainly joined me for that journey.
At first all I wanted was to help you, not understanding why. Of course, I was worried about what could happen to all of us, if your past caught up with you, but it was mostly an excuse to pry in your life. Yes, I admit, you were right: I had no right to demand the truth from you, especially as it was so painful and torturous for you. But I always needed more. I think I'd missed the moment, when my eagerness to know became an obsession to save you.
The funny thing is that I actually did it. It was me, who released you from the prison of your past, who freed you from the torment you'd been livening in. Even if I only had a small part in it, I can't help being proud of it. I always find comfort in the thought I'd helped you break free from the agony.
I don't think Arthur realized how much I knew. I doubt he suspected you'd trust me with something you couldn't confide him about. Maybe it wasn't about trust. It was probably because he wasn't so nosey and stubborn. He respected your pain and privacy. I guess I never did. And so I forced my way to knowing you better than anyone else. I'm not sure even you know yourself as well. And on some level, I think, you longed to share everything with someone. Somewhere deep down, you wanted someone to be persistent enough to find out the truth, to force it out of you.
It didn't take that long to get attached. Not only to you, but all the others too. Arthur, especially. My theory is that the experience we have had together was intense enough to be bonding. Planning an illegal job, which required a journey to a place we might've never come back from; and depending on each other, trusting with our own lives… Apparently all of those had drawn us closer than years of friendship. More than that, we weren't exactly the most typical social circle. If not for the common goal we shared, we would've never in a million years become friends. Certainly not more.
When Arthur tricked me into kissing him, I didn't even try to look angry. I was honestly amused by his ability to be light and childish in the most stressful situation possible. I realized he was flirting, but couldn't make myself worry about it. I hadn't suspected he was interested before this, although now that I play everything over in my mind, I think I probably should've known. There were hints, signs; but I'd been too occupied with my fascination about you to notice anything. Every time he'd done something that should've made me guess, my mind wasn't there to pay attention. I could never wait to get back to dreaming to spend time with you. Time after time, I looked across the room to watch you sleep. Again and again, I checked the time to know how much more was left until you got there… That's how all of Arthur's efforts went to waste. Yes, I should've guessed.
When I let myself fall off the balcony, watching you hold your dying dead wife, it was the most painful thing I'd ever experienced. It was heartbreaking to watch, but it wasn't only your suffering. It was also mine. The pain was abnormally sharp, in no place in particular and all over my body at the same time. I wished I could stay with you, even though I knew it would have been even more difficult for me.
I still couldn't name any of the feelings I had, but I could most definitely feel all of them. I knew it hurt and I knew I longed for something, but was unable to put it all together. All of it felt familiar, but unidentifiable at the same time.
When I counted heartbeats until you woke up, stopping my breath at the realization you might not… When the thought that we'd all made it and returned to reality alive came second after the thought of how you were finally going to be reunited with your kids… When your eyes were what I searched for as soon as I've opened mine…
That's when I knew.
Suddenly all of it clicked and I knew exactly how to call the state I found myself in. Somewhere between becoming both terrified and captivated by you, and getting to the deepest and darkest corners of your soul – I'd fallen in love with you. What a stupid language English is. You say you're in love with someone, even if the other person doesn't return the same feelings. You're supposed to say you're with someone only in case you're both in it. You never say you're in the same room with someone, actually meaning that you are the only one there and you just wish this someone to be there with you. Stupid, stupid language.
At the airport, when our eyes met for one brief moment, I silently prayed it wasn't the last time. And I've never felt more pathetic in my life. We didn't say goodbye, since we weren't supposed to be seen together in public. For everyone else, we were strangers. On some level, we probably were. On another, we were as far from it as was possible.
Walking past me, Arthur had brushed my hand with his fingers, not meeting my gaze to avoid suspicion. I knew it wasn't accidental; he kept his hand on mine a second or two longer than natural for an unintended touch. I was moved - no one else bothered. Including me. I guessed he could relate to what I was feeling, some sort of disappointment for the end of the adventure and disconnection from all the others. In a strange, twisted way, I knew I would miss this; the rush, the out-of-the-body experience, the danger... even the crime. I knew I would miss us. The group of criminals plotting and executing. Sadly, I knew I would miss you the most.
Childishly, I told myself my newly discovered feelings would pass, when the purpose we shared was gone. I tried to convince myself they would disappear, now that everything was over.
But they didn't. And I kept longing for your company, your presence. There's just something about you - energy, aura, magic; call it however you like - that marks your existence and your closeness unmistakably known. There's greatness about you, although you don't even try. I wonder if you even know about the impact you have on people. It's not just me, I can assure you. Even Arthur looks at you with more awe, than I'd ever seen him look at anybody. I still don't know what exactly it was that attracted me to you, but I was constantly and uncontrollably drawn back to you.
For weeks after our plan was successfully executed, we all stayed away from each other. It's embarrassing to admit, but I counted days. I didn't know how many I needed to go through before we would meet, but I counted. And they dragged slowly, as if teasing and daring me to do something. I fought the urge to find you, though. I'd been strong enough to resist the temptation even to call you. Although probably out of lack of something to say more than anything else.
Arthur was the first one to break the distance we'd kept from each other. There wasn't any plan of reuniting after a certain time; he just called me and it had nothing to do with the job we'd done or any of you at all. It was about me. And truth to be told, it did feel nice.
Over the next month, a big part of which I was spending with Arthur, I've learned even more about you. Strange, I didn't think there was anything else to know. But I'd been wrong. There was even more to you than was already too much for me. As your friend, who had known you for years, Arthur spoke about you quite a lot. Sometimes he told me about your adventures and sometimes about experiences that had nothing to do with work. I learned that you didn't enjoy the jobs and that you wouldn't have gotten into theft and deception, if not the circumstances and the obvious motives. It made me feel a little bit ashamed. I didn't voice that, but Arthur smiled at me softly and said he knew what I was thinking about. He said he felt that too. Ashamed, guilty, despiteful... A bad person for getting into such an amoral business, when he had a choice. And he also felt all of what made me agree to it; all of those feelings that hadn't let him reject the offer. Well, he didn't know that part of it for me was because of you, of course, but the rest was pretty much identical.
I discovered how you two met and what was the first thing you'd said to him... And what things you used to like before you lost everything you loved... And how it all started with your wife - how it ended I already knew... And all those things about your kids... And so many other things. I'd learned things about Arthur too, probably a dozen times more than I'd learned about you, but the things concerning you were the ones I was absorbing the most.
Arthur was wonderful company, it was easy and light and casual with him. He was gentle in the way he treated me, it was almost innocent and a little bit of childish between us. I knew what he wanted, but I let him work his way to me, pretending I hadn't realized all of this time ago. Spending time with him made me realize I'd missed him too, only it was overshadowed by the intense longing I felt for you. It seemed he always lived in your shadow... And my longing - it was like a magnet between us, an activated bomb with quick countdown. It was only time before I couldn't take it anymore.
And yet, it wasn't even my idea to visit you. It was Arthur's. As soon as I saw you after all that time we'd been apart, I knew I was doomed. I knew I wouldn't be able to let go again. I was right. God, I fought so hard to not crash you in a hug. Not letting go of Arthur's hand was almost as difficult. It was my first instinct, almost a reflex, but you didn't even seem to notice. I remember how you hugged him, making me feel incredibly jealous it wasn't me and then you put your hand on my shoulder, giving me a pleasant smile. It wasn't what you'd call a beaming grin, but certainly more than I'd seen from you before.
It was impossible to miss the metamorphosis you've gone through. It wasn't a drastic physical makeover - not that you needed one, of course - and not something I could put my finger on, but it was obvious and visible. Light, that's the best way to describe it. Especially when the kids caught up with you, each of them pressing to either side of you as they curiously scanned the guests. Watching you with them was the most beautiful thing I'd ever laid my eyes on, and I've never even had an especially soft spot for kids. Arthur noticed too, he smiled his reserved smile to no one in particular and I could see he sincerely cared about you. This could only make it worse for my conscience. Seeing this new part of you - the part of a father - made my feelings heat up even more, as if I needed another motivation for those emotions; they were already at boiling point as it was.
After that first time, we started visiting you frequently and every time you told us you wanted us to come back. I didn't know if it was out of politeness, or honest appreciation, but I knew I was there as Arthur's girl. So I stayed in that role.
I know I'm a horrible person. A whore, even. I knew it then too. Nothing mattered, though.
Imagine how much I hated myself after our talk. You know the one... Yes, when you told me you would never forget what I did for you… that I remind you a lot of yourself when you were young and that after all we've been through, I'm closer to you than anyone had been in a long while. Yes, when you said you would do anything to help me in return, if I needed it. Imagine how disgusted I felt with myself, knowing you considered me a friend; realizing I didn't need to use Arthur. Still, you spoke to me more like a mentor to his student, than to his friend. Still, I could see it didn't occur to you that we could be more. Still, all I was to you is this young, innocent girl, who is brave and hungry for adventure, full of life and with the entire future ahead of her. Still, you were oblivious to the way I looked at you or the way I didn't look at Arthur.
And Arthur... He was there. And he was interested. He saw me as the woman I am, although he seemed to ignore most of my flaws. He had the love I needed and he wanted to give it to me. He poured affection and attention on me and they won over the tiny bits of morals I've had left. And I gave in. I gave in every time I decided I had to end it, every time I thought I gathered enough willpower to be fair to him.
I don't even know how it happened, but time gave birth to attachment and closeness and we became some sort of a dysfunctional family. You and I – over the conversations we've shared and the time we spent in each other's company. Arthur and I – as a couple, in and out of your house. Arthur and you – even beyond the friendship you've already had before. Even your kids and we. I'd never imagined I could get so attached to someone's children. I actually enjoy being with them and miss them when I'm away, as if they really were a part of my family. At some point, and I'm not sure when it happened exactly, I became 'Auntie Ari' for your kids. It means more to me than you know or than I'd ever expected. More than I can explain.
Then came New Year's Eve. We spent it together and at midnight Arthur kissed me. Right in front of you. I knew it didn't bother you, which only hurt worse, but I felt uncomfortable. I fought not to pull away. Never, in my entire life have I wished for something so much, as I wished it were your lips on mine at that moment. I could practically imagine it in my mind… Almost feel it…
That night, when we went home, was the first time he'd said 'I love you' to me. I couldn't respond. And again, in my mind I was playing a different voice. That night was the first time I've had a dream with you.
I remember telling Arthur I was tired and watching him leave, which couldn't happen fast enough. I was impatient and hectic. In a matter of minutes, I arranged everything, using all the skills I've earned. And then I was dreaming…
We were together in an unfamiliar room and I had no idea how we got there. Your crystal-blue eyes were mesmerizing, your gaze intense and burning. I had to take a moment to admire them. You didn't move as I walked up to you across the room, just watched my every move intently. As soon as I was close enough, I reached my shaky hand to your hair, ran my fingers through it and slowly let them glide down your neck and shoulder until it reached your chest… My hands, my lips, every cell in my body seemed to tremble in response to my hammering heart. I swear, if it were reality, I would've had a heart attack by now.
Your eyes never left my face and I had to remind myself it was a dream and the man in front of me was only a projection. A shadow of my desires. A fruit of my imagination. I had to repeat to myself that none of it would happen in reality. It was difficult to keep my thoughts coherent as you finally reacted, reaching out and cupping my face.
The heat… It was like nothing else I've experienced. My entire body was set on fire as our hands roamed over the other, exploring every curve and texture. My breathing was shallow and heavy, every nerve in me seemed to be exposed and all I wanted was to be closer to you. By the time our lips met, I was clinging to you desperately; tighter, stronger, more…
You were returning the kiss just as enthusiastically, holding me securely in your arms. You were panting just as frequently as I was and your skin felt like flames against mine... You wanted it just as much as I did...
And then I opened my eyes.
To an empty room. Cold room. Dark room. A room without you. I was flustered and sweaty, still gasping for air desperately. And I knew my mind, my sanity… It was all lost. I was insane for doing that. It was wrong on all levels, immoral, disgusting… I couldn't believe that I let myself do it, that I'd gotten that low. And the worst thing was that I knew I would do it again.
I was right. It took about a week until I surrendered to the inexplicable pull I had to you. My entire being begged for what I couldn't get in reality. And so I was back into the dream. Only this time I made sure I had enough time to finish whatever we were going to start…
I hadn't bothered with too many details. The room was empty, except one bed, which was the only thing I needed. We – you and I– were all that mattered at those precious moments. In a flash we were holding each other, our hands all over each other's bodies, gripping and roaming greedily. The heat was beyond measurable, yet somehow still increasing, melting us slowly… And again, you were as willing as I was. Our breathing was scattered and fast, as we gasped for air in between kisses and moans. I could feel your heart beating just as powerfully as mine when our chests were pressed together. And we both were desperate to get more.
Lord, I don't think I can forget that night even if I tried. Actually, I did try. It was a lousy attempt, motivated by my tormented conscience. It didn't work. When I tried to not think about it, I ended up immersed in memories. Either that or another dream. What? You didn't think I it was the last one, did you?
The first time I saw you after I started having dreams of you, I was too embarrassed to meet your gaze. Was it out of guilt? Shame? Was I worried you'd somehow know, if you looked me in the eyes? Or was I afraid I wouldn't be able to resist the temptation to harass you sexually, after the intense sensations I'd experienced? I truthfully wasn't sure I could go on without them, after I did.
Arthur didn't show a sign that he suspected anything. And who in their right mind would think something like that was even possible? What kind of a sick person would want this?
I wasn't completely corrupted; I'd tried to stop. Multiple, countless times, I've decided I wouldn't go back, that I wouldn't have dreams with you anymore, that I would stay away from everything connected to you. I'd even convinced myself I simply missed the adventure I'd discovered in the world of dreams. I repeatedly told myself reality wasn't enough for me, now that I knew more than that and I've tried to design a dream that didn't include you; something that had absolutely nothing to do with you or my feelings towards you.
It was all no use. It only made me discover new ways for me to be with your projection, because it appeared in the dream no matter what it was about. I was never able to keep the promise I made to myself over and over again to stop. It was masochistic, definitely not healthy: I'd reached all new levels of pathetic and I was practically torturing myself on purpose. But I didn't have the power over myself anymore.
At first it was just about the sex, the animalistic desire, the insatiable lust… And I didn't know if I'd ever have enough of it. The emotions were overwhelming, indescribable. I felt like an active volcano and it was like nothing I've ever felt before. All that what I did with Arthur put together did to me couldn't come close to what a chaste kiss from you caused me feel. Even the guilt didn't kick in until I woke up. In the dream everything was simply perfect.
Until it became not enough. Like with any drug, eventually I started to want more. It's just like they say: the more you get, the more you desire. I wanted to talk with you, to hold your hand, to cuddle in front of the fireplace, to go to the beach or have dinner with you… I wanted a relationship with you. More than anything, I wanted you to have initiative – not to be a reaction to my actions. I wanted the real you, not just the sketch I had in my mind.
I wasn't clever and sophisticated enough to make your projection perfectly fit you. I used everything I'd learned from you and everything I knew about you – breaking the main rule about dreams: not to use reality, – to design the most vivid projection I was capable of, but it didn't measure up. Not even close. So I had to split my time to get closer to what I wanted.
I was going back and forth from sexual encounters in dreams to intellectual ones in life. From touches to words. From a lie to the truth. I was torn between dreaming and reality. Crazy? Oh, yes, I am. There is no doubt in my mind about that.
I was afraid I would become too confused to tell between the two worlds and do something idiotic, like call Arthur by your name or touch you romantically outside of the dream. So I tried to keep track of reality. I made sure to check with my totem constantly and to leave different signs for myself; everything to ensure my obsession wouldn't get out of control. I would've even been afraid of saying something about you in my sleep while Arthur was there, but I've stopped dreaming by then. Naturally, I mean.
Above everything else, between the intoxicating illusion of euphoria in the world I'd created and the bond we shared in real life, it hurt. All the time. It hurt knowing it wasn't really you when I was dreaming. And it hurt knowing that it could never happen in reality. And it hurt to wake up. It hurt to know I was living a fake life.
But it was also excruciating to be away from you, in both worlds. I had to have the fantasies of my subconscious, in order to feel everything over and over again… And I had to return to reality to be with the real you, the one I fell in love with, because the projection was always only a poor imitation of you. And it hurt to be so close to you and yet feel you so far away, so… not mine. Neither of the worlds was enough, but both hurt.
I was so much worse than you were when I first met you. You had been at least trying to resist it. You fought it. You knew it wasn't worth it and you remembered what was. You were strong enough to defeat your weakness, strong enough to let go. I wasn't.
No matter how wrong I knew it was, I kept coming back to you. Even though there was nothing really to come back to. You had never been mine, never could be. You had your kids and they were your world. You needed nothing else in life anymore; you'd had a lifetime with the love of your life, your second half. You had loved and been loved and didn't need, nor want that kind of happiness anymore. You were finally at peace with your life.
But what was I supposed to do with my feelings? I was still young, I still longed for love of this kind and now I wanted – no, needed – it with you. I couldn't control it. I'd never even thought feelings could be so consuming, so controlling and overwhelming. I used to be always in control of my own actions, my brain always superior to my emotions…
Now I was lost. I was addicted to you; all I wanted was to be close to you and I was becoming more than dependant on you. Just like a desperate, hopeless drug addict, I was prepared to be anything to you; whatever you wanted me to be – I would become it. Only for another minute, a glimpse, a smile, the softest touch, the shortest sound of your voice… Just like an addict.
And none was ever enough.
It hurt either way. I knew what was right, but I wasn't strong enough to do it. I was only a tiny, imperfect human, after all. And I couldn't decide what hurt more. The ambivalent feelings battled constantly inside of me, but neither could win. It was a lose-lose situation. I couldn't win.
Yet, it was better than having nothing at all. Call me insane, call me cruel and sinful – I am all of these things. I wouldn't mind, as long as I could have the heat, the closeness, the heavy breathing… As long as I could spend hours simply listening to your heartbeats, my ear pressed against your chest and your arms around me... It was better than nothing. It was all worth it, even if it would never be enough.
And there was still Arthur.
Arthur had nothing in the world but me and I knew it. That's why he didn't mind staying in New York. He stayed for me. And I – I stayed for you. You were there with your kids, at your home and you didn't need me, but I stayed anyway. Because I needed it.
I often felt guilty for doing this to Arthur. He didn't deserve it. I knew I couldn't give him all of myself, I knew I was cheating on him, even if it wasn't in reality. I lied to him, saying there were more professional opportunities for me here to explain why I wanted to stay. I lied every time I gave an excuse for wanting to be alone. I lied when I kissed him. I lied not saying I didn't love him. Every time, I had to remind myself that for him it was enough, like it would've been for me, if it were you. I tried to console my guilty conscience with the fact that Arthur had what he wanted. He had the person he loved. It was more than I could ever say for myself.
Arthur was happy, because what he didn't know couldn't hurt him. And at least one of us had to have what they wanted.
As rude and disrespectful as it might sound, to me, being with Arthur was like sex without the orgasm. It was nice and enjoyable, but never, ever satisfying. Arthur was never enough, no matter how much he tried, no matter how much I tried.
It's not like he did something wrong. Arthur wasn't a bad kisser or a bad lover, not at all. He was intelligent and nice, sweet and gentle, he had a great sense of humor and I can't say I was bored in his company. But Arthur wasn't the kind of guy, who girls lost their heads over. Although maybe to someone else he was; it wasn't his fault my head was already lost. Arthur was great. But he just wasn't you.
I never appreciated him, you know?
I didn't see how soft and warm his eyes were, just like a hot chocolate cake, because I always searched for the clear azure ocean in them. I didn't admire the elegance and finesse of his appearance and movements, because I tried to find the strength and masculinity I knew in you. I hadn't paid attention to the way a watch looked better on his wrist than it could on anyone else, because I was too busy watching intently its hands to know how much time was left until I saw you. I never noticed he used to kiss my shoulder blade every single time he got in or out of bed. He might've as well picked up a different habit - like kissing my lips, nose, collar bone... - but I always had my back turned to him. It wasn't intentional, it was just my habit.
I used to repeatedly convince myself it was enough for Arthur, that I gave him what he wanted. But I think I'd always known it wasn't true. He had the shell; never the inside - the thoughts, the feelings, the devotion... He just never said anything as I slowly neglected him. All of this time, he had known I wasn't his. Just like you weren't mine. He wanted me. I wanted you. You didn't want anybody. A closed circle. A paradox of life.
You know what tortures me the most? The thought he might've had the chance to find someone who wasn't masochistic and insane, a girl that would have lost her head over him. He would've become her entire world and they would've made each other happy... Something he and I could never do for the each other. Not really.
And then I also blame myself for not giving it a chance. For not giving myself a chance. Every compliment, every flower, every kiss and touch... I wasted all of them with him wishing they came from you. I didn't enjoy life with him, because it wasn't what I wanted. My mind was so focused on what I desired and couldn't have, that it ignored everything I did have. It's true what they say; you don't appreciate something until it's gone.
I didn't cry when I realized he'd left me for good. Even now, there's not a single tear on my face. I wish there was, though, it would've been easier. The weather couldn't be more appropriate, perfectly matching my mood: gloomy, dark, cold, somehow sad - but not a drop of rain. It's so quiet here that I feel like I'm the only person in the world. I heard it's called loneliness.
I know no one would ever love and cherish me as much as Arthur had. No one would treat me as gently, as adoringly as he had. With him, my probability of being happy was the highest. And it's gone with him. I never realized it when he was here, though. And now this realization doesn't really matter.
Now, when it's too late to change anything I understand how painful it must have been for him. Now, when it's worthless knowing it, I realize I loved him. It was nothing like what I've always felt for you, but I did love him in a way. And if only I'd allowed myself to accept everything Arthur was giving me... If only he were here for me to give him something back... I might've had a small chance at being a little bit happy. I don't have a right to ask for a second chance. I've had my second chance. Hell, I've even had my third and fourth, but I blew all of them. I'd been too blinded by emotions to see anything clearly. I missed my opportunity at happiness waiting for something I knew would never come.
I realize I brought it on myself. I didn't let myself enjoy life or love; I was the one, who denied myself that, not anyone else. Now that I can only regret them, I acknowledge my mistakes. I can't even blame you for my misfortunes. I know am the only one to blame. And I accept this fact. I had ruined both Arthur's and mine lives - not setting either of us free and not committing entirely to making us work. I had given in to my weaknesses, to my heart's caprices. I knew it was distraction even back then, but I still went for it. At least I deserve it. He didn't.
I was desperate, stupid, sick and twisted for doing it, I know. I was supposed to construct, to build, to create. Not to destroy. But that's exactly what I did. I refused to let go of either you or Arthur and as a result, I didn't really have either of you. The thing is, that he could've been mine, if I let him. You have always been just an impossible illusion that could only bring trouble and would never result in any good. Poison can be sweet too, you know? You were mine, slowly killing me without even knowing it. And I let you.
When have I gone from the innocent, eager girl, whose courage you admired to a sinful, treacherous and pitiful person? When have I lost all of my morals and common sense? When have I become so infatuated with you that I couldn't control myself anymore? When was the turning point when everything else stopped mattering?
I embrace the punishment of guilt, solitude, misery and a certain degree of insanity. I know I've earned every bit of hell I will get. I will be ashamed for the way I've lived to the day I die and my conscience will never be in piece. I've thrown my life away, realizing every wrong thing I've done when it was already too late to make up for it.
So why, for the love of everything damned or holly, right now, as I'm kneeling in front of Arthur's grave, is it still you I'm speaking to in my mind, Dom Cobb?