Hidden Emotions
Of all the things in the world, she was all that truly mattered to me. I knew that I had no chance, that it was all over, but I returned still. Every night I stood on the balcony outside her room and sang sweet laments of love through the statuette which lay on her bedside table. Though she had chosen him, somehow in my dark, twisted mind I imagined that we were still together. Stupid boy, I thought, knowing that if he had not come and interfered, she would have been mine. She did not know it, yet I watched all of her actions.
She no longer sang. She no longer spent time wondering about the world, and she no longer cared what she looked like, not like when she was mine, when she was always beautiful. Now her once beautiful blonde hair was always matted and frizzy. She ate less. And she cried.
She cried as if heaven had met its demise. She would call to me, and I would be compelled to draw nearer, to take her into my arms and sweep her away forever, but the memory of that night rang through my head. The heartbreak that I experienced that night was what kept me from taking her away from where she belonged. I yearned for her to be happy, and I yearned for her to be mine. I knew that she was not meant to live underground in the shrine to music I had created beneath the destroyed opera house. She belonged in the sunlight, a crown of flowers gracing her well brushed golden hair and crystal blue eyes.
She was where she belonged.
Without me.
With him.