The great mysteries: what she is doing right now and what she is thinking. Has she thought of you at all? Has she any plans of contacting you again? After letters sent to her and time spent thinking of her, she becomes more mysterious than the great pyramids. Thoughts of this mere human become more compelling and intriguing than anything else you can imagine.
She has more power over you than the law. The idea of your death pales in comparison to what she is doing right now at this very moment. What you would pay to be able to see her and not be seen? What would you endure to know? Your curiosity and preoccupation with this infuriates you. You are being passively dominated. You have enslaved yourself. Your need shackles you to yourself. It's one thing to be humiliated by someone. But humiliating yourself alone in your room is self-inflicted pain on a different level. Ultimate. Beyond irony.
You think of her before you go to sleep every night. In the dark you remember when she was right beside you. You have thought of her so much that she is more conceptual than actual. You wonder what occurs to her. How her mind works. How she could tell you the things she did and all of a sudden disappear. Sleep tight old friend. It's ok. As you breathe right now she's getting off with someone else and has no intention of ever seeing you again. If it makes you feel any better, there's a good chance that somewhere, some guy is already bored with her. Not likely.
* * *
I can feel the blood leaving my body. There is a pool rapidly forming around my midsection as I lie here on the sidewalk. I hear traffic sounds and I can see people peering down at me. People are talking about me but no one is talking to me. I am cold and alone. A moment ago I was walking. I heard gunshots and then something pushed me to the ground. Am I dying? Yes, I am dying. I can feel life leaving me.
It's strange that amidst all the noise and confusion around me, I am clear headed and my thoughts are calm and rational. All I can think of is you. All the things that I never told you, how much you meant to me. I don't know why it is now that these things come rushing to me so clearly. It is sad that you will never know these thoughts of mine. The things I am feeling while I inhale the smell of car exhaust and blood. It just occurred to me that it is my blood I am smelling. You will surely find out of my death but not of these thoughts. I must tell you that I was always afraid of the fury with which I loved you. It overwhelmed me. I thought it beyond comprehension, therefore my silence. I felt overshadowed by the power of it, I was afraid of it and afraid of you. So strong and pure was this passion that it came out as pure venom.
I know that you will always think I hated you. If only you knew how wrong you were. I remember when just the sight of you would send me into a fit of rage so blind and molten, I would claw at my flesh until I drew blood, hit myself in the face and cry. I remember the last time I saw you. You were so kind, and I was so hard and sullen. It was all I could do to contain myself. A rose trapped inside a fist.
If I had not walked away quickly after my short reply, I would have been at your feet, begging to be at your side forever. It is the only place I ever wanted to be. To me you are more than a woman. You are a creature of beauty, a creation of a higher order.
I will die knowing that no one will ever love you as I have loved you all these years. I will now attempt to say your name with my last breath.