I really can't say anything else about what it was like... how lovely, really lovely it was. I can't. I'm no poet, I never have been. I don't have the words. It is nothing I can share, anyway... one understands, or one doesn't, there is nothing in-between.
Isn't that a funny thing to say? Nothing in-between. I myself am nothing but a whole lot of in-betweens. Oh, if only everything could be so one-way, or the other! I hate, I detest, I do so loathe everything that is only half! Should it surprise you that occasionally, yes, I hate even myself? I think it should not, whomever you are. I think that, if you are a discerning reader, you should have figured at least that by now.
In the meantime, something completely awful had happened! And by awful, I mean wonderful, and by wonderful, I mean awful. Oh! Do you see now how wretched it is, when things cannot be one thing and not something else, contradictory? Do you not see how muddling, at the end of it? You will soon, I promise. You see, what happened was this-- two things, really.
First thing was that I triumphed. I mean, I came out of my shell at the opera, and that, that! Was my undoing. Oh, had I been content merely to share my singing with Erik alone, in the dressing room, I might have been happier longer, I may have avoided all the horrible things to come... oh yes, I am happy now, but must one really endure such horrible-- horrible!-- things before...
Well yes, I suppose one must. I don't regret anything. Oh hell. See what I mean, again? This is unreadable muddle!
I wish only to deliver the facts, as they occurred. First, yes, I sang out loud, and solo, and I was received tremendously. The second thing that happened what that Raoul returned, and he heard me. I don't know, at that point, if there is anything that could have stopped him loving me. Erik thought not, that is certain, but I don't think he made it any better. No, I rather think he damned himself, because of Raoul. I think he rather pushed me into Raoul's arms, I think he drove me beyond caring of what might happen when Raoul uncovered my secret. I think that what followed is, in fact, entirely his fault.
Oh, perhaps not entirely. I did nothing to discourage Raoul, after all. I think that I loved him then... oh, I must have. Which is not to imply I do not love him now. Only that from time to time it pales a little, when I think of poor, unhappy Erik. Oh, what muddle!
But I must tell of what happened, what followed. How I, a young not-man with a high voice in a skirt became one of the most celebrated voices in Paris, and how caught I was between two jealous, frightened, temperamental men, both crying at me and clutching as if their hearts would break... the one offering me a love as pure and as innocent as anything out of a fairy tale, and the other one offering me a glory as dark and as fraught with magic as the same. Did I really have a choice, or did these men only fancy that I did, all the while moving the wheels and intriguing about me, assuring that little enough I did would be of any consequence whatever?
If I lied, Raoul would surely have seen it, and determined I loved him but lived in some kind of fear... and I did!
But he proved to me I was not mad, when he heard Erik's voice from the outside of my room. I could never be furious with him for that, so relieved was I! No matter what he supposed Erik was. I did not consciously mislead him on that point... I had not thought, you know, of my Angel as a man, with a man's desires, and a man's... covetousness, until far, far too late.
Isn't that a funny thing to say? Nothing in-between. I myself am nothing but a whole lot of in-betweens. Oh, if only everything could be so one-way, or the other! I hate, I detest, I do so loathe everything that is only half! Should it surprise you that occasionally, yes, I hate even myself? I think it should not, whomever you are. I think that, if you are a discerning reader, you should have figured at least that by now.
In the meantime, something completely awful had happened! And by awful, I mean wonderful, and by wonderful, I mean awful. Oh! Do you see now how wretched it is, when things cannot be one thing and not something else, contradictory? Do you not see how muddling, at the end of it? You will soon, I promise. You see, what happened was this-- two things, really.
First thing was that I triumphed. I mean, I came out of my shell at the opera, and that, that! Was my undoing. Oh, had I been content merely to share my singing with Erik alone, in the dressing room, I might have been happier longer, I may have avoided all the horrible things to come... oh yes, I am happy now, but must one really endure such horrible-- horrible!-- things before...
Well yes, I suppose one must. I don't regret anything. Oh hell. See what I mean, again? This is unreadable muddle!
I wish only to deliver the facts, as they occurred. First, yes, I sang out loud, and solo, and I was received tremendously. The second thing that happened what that Raoul returned, and he heard me. I don't know, at that point, if there is anything that could have stopped him loving me. Erik thought not, that is certain, but I don't think he made it any better. No, I rather think he damned himself, because of Raoul. I think he rather pushed me into Raoul's arms, I think he drove me beyond caring of what might happen when Raoul uncovered my secret. I think that what followed is, in fact, entirely his fault.
Oh, perhaps not entirely. I did nothing to discourage Raoul, after all. I think that I loved him then... oh, I must have. Which is not to imply I do not love him now. Only that from time to time it pales a little, when I think of poor, unhappy Erik. Oh, what muddle!
But I must tell of what happened, what followed. How I, a young not-man with a high voice in a skirt became one of the most celebrated voices in Paris, and how caught I was between two jealous, frightened, temperamental men, both crying at me and clutching as if their hearts would break... the one offering me a love as pure and as innocent as anything out of a fairy tale, and the other one offering me a glory as dark and as fraught with magic as the same. Did I really have a choice, or did these men only fancy that I did, all the while moving the wheels and intriguing about me, assuring that little enough I did would be of any consequence whatever?
If I lied, Raoul would surely have seen it, and determined I loved him but lived in some kind of fear... and I did!
But he proved to me I was not mad, when he heard Erik's voice from the outside of my room. I could never be furious with him for that, so relieved was I! No matter what he supposed Erik was. I did not consciously mislead him on that point... I had not thought, you know, of my Angel as a man, with a man's desires, and a man's... covetousness, until far, far too late.