Do I know love?
What a silly question to ask of me. Who cares whether or not I know what love is? You don't need love. It's a weak emotion, causing the ones you love to become targets for your enemies, to open yourself, make yourself vulnerable to pain and loss and guilt and jealousy and such horrid emotions. Who needs love? Surely, surely I don't.
And yet, whenever you look at me with your blue pools that you call eyes, I feel myself fall even more, choosing to let myself drown in your happiness and light rather to cast myself headlong into the turmoil and darkness that is my existence. You make me forget, for just a little while, that my future is nothing, a blank pit of black. You make me forget about my bloodstained past, full of guilt and other emotions that you don't deserve to experience as I have. With you, I can actually live.
Do I wish for love?
I see Himura and his subtle glances at Kamiya Karou. Pathetic, I used to mutter to myself. But, at the same time, I used to envy him. At least he could show some affection, show how much he cared for Karou in some ways. He even went as far as to tell her he loved her once. And I still envy him. How can he express those thoughts openly, when his past is just as bloodstained as mine? What is it in him that allows him to care?
Do I love?
Do I love? People say that in order to love others, one must first learn to love thyself. But... I detest myself, ashamed of my guilty past, angry at my mistakes and regret at my failures. Does that mean I cannot love? People say that in order to appreciate beauty, they must find it in themselves. But I know beauty. I know beauty, and all I have to do to have it is reach out and take it in my hands. But I could never allow myself to do such a thing. I would taint your soul; burden your innocence with my shame. Never.
I would rather die from lack of your light than to have you suffer from the bitter cold of my shadows.
Do I need love?
What a stupid question to ask. Who needs love? It's a petty emotion that brings out some of the worst qualities known to man. Who needs love? I repeat that phrase to myself while I meditate, though at the same time anticipating your arrival, your smile, your laugh. Filling me, invigorating me, but at the same time, bittersweet; like the ocean swell. I could never have you. You were never meant for me, never mine to take. And that fact in itself pains me, fills me with a frustration. Perhaps...perhaps if my past could have been different. Perhaps if I were more worthy...
Who needs love? Surely, surely I don't.
And yet... yet something inside of me whispers...something inside says that I do.
What a silly question to ask of me. Who cares whether or not I know what love is? You don't need love. It's a weak emotion, causing the ones you love to become targets for your enemies, to open yourself, make yourself vulnerable to pain and loss and guilt and jealousy and such horrid emotions. Who needs love? Surely, surely I don't.
And yet, whenever you look at me with your blue pools that you call eyes, I feel myself fall even more, choosing to let myself drown in your happiness and light rather to cast myself headlong into the turmoil and darkness that is my existence. You make me forget, for just a little while, that my future is nothing, a blank pit of black. You make me forget about my bloodstained past, full of guilt and other emotions that you don't deserve to experience as I have. With you, I can actually live.
Do I wish for love?
I see Himura and his subtle glances at Kamiya Karou. Pathetic, I used to mutter to myself. But, at the same time, I used to envy him. At least he could show some affection, show how much he cared for Karou in some ways. He even went as far as to tell her he loved her once. And I still envy him. How can he express those thoughts openly, when his past is just as bloodstained as mine? What is it in him that allows him to care?
Do I love?
Do I love? People say that in order to love others, one must first learn to love thyself. But... I detest myself, ashamed of my guilty past, angry at my mistakes and regret at my failures. Does that mean I cannot love? People say that in order to appreciate beauty, they must find it in themselves. But I know beauty. I know beauty, and all I have to do to have it is reach out and take it in my hands. But I could never allow myself to do such a thing. I would taint your soul; burden your innocence with my shame. Never.
I would rather die from lack of your light than to have you suffer from the bitter cold of my shadows.
Do I need love?
What a stupid question to ask. Who needs love? It's a petty emotion that brings out some of the worst qualities known to man. Who needs love? I repeat that phrase to myself while I meditate, though at the same time anticipating your arrival, your smile, your laugh. Filling me, invigorating me, but at the same time, bittersweet; like the ocean swell. I could never have you. You were never meant for me, never mine to take. And that fact in itself pains me, fills me with a frustration. Perhaps...perhaps if my past could have been different. Perhaps if I were more worthy...
Who needs love? Surely, surely I don't.
And yet... yet something inside of me whispers...something inside says that I do.