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May. 27th, 2009 02:14 amPrivate Journal, Audio Disk 10, Silver Security Encryption in effect.
May 26, 2009
Dear Deacon,
Oh my love, forgive me. I have betrayed you yet again. I want, wanted to die, had planned for it. I even invited death into my life, my home, in hopes that death could do what I had not the courage to do - to end this existence without you. And now I find myself flirting, even with death itself, dancing on the edge of that blade, so sharp, so bright. And yet I am a coward, my desire to live at war with the pain of losing you. Being lost without you. Not wanting to live without you.
To have you and lose you broke my heart, my only desire left was to live to avenge you. And now you have returned, and yet I loose you again so soon after finding you once more? Breaks more than heart. It has shattered my soul, my very will to survive.
And yet I could not do it in the end.
Perhaps soon, soon if I court death itself as a lover, perhaps in the end I shall get the release I cry for, I pray and beg for when alone in the night. And so I shall live, and smile, and open my arms and perhaps my heart even to death itself. And I betray you. For although I have not the courage to live, to truly live without you, yet even so I have not the courage to die alone.
Forgive me?
May 26, 2009
Dear Deacon,
Oh my love, forgive me. I have betrayed you yet again. I want, wanted to die, had planned for it. I even invited death into my life, my home, in hopes that death could do what I had not the courage to do - to end this existence without you. And now I find myself flirting, even with death itself, dancing on the edge of that blade, so sharp, so bright. And yet I am a coward, my desire to live at war with the pain of losing you. Being lost without you. Not wanting to live without you.
To have you and lose you broke my heart, my only desire left was to live to avenge you. And now you have returned, and yet I loose you again so soon after finding you once more? Breaks more than heart. It has shattered my soul, my very will to survive.
And yet I could not do it in the end.
Perhaps soon, soon if I court death itself as a lover, perhaps in the end I shall get the release I cry for, I pray and beg for when alone in the night. And so I shall live, and smile, and open my arms and perhaps my heart even to death itself. And I betray you. For although I have not the courage to live, to truly live without you, yet even so I have not the courage to die alone.
Forgive me?
