събота, 16 февруари 2013 г.

To all the Romeos out there


“The deadliest of all deadly things: It kills you both when you have it and
when you don’t." - Lauren Oliver,Delirium

The letter lay there, waiting , inviting .It was her name, written in his handwriting, that stripped all the pretences away. It was a war of vanities, but eventually her heart won.

I never stood a chance, nor did I have a choice. You entered my world without asking, without seeking permission. Inexorably. Mercilessly. I couldn’t event catch a glimpse of it, of where it all changed. But you are good ,you are so damn good at it. As far back as my memory stretches, there you are – silent, persistent, shattering. Every little piece of my memory is soaked with your presence. The air that I breathe, the blood in my veins ,nothing’s the same. It all belongs to you. My future? The moment you swept away my past, my future lost its delineation. It all comes down to you now. And the worst part is that I wouldn’t have it any other way. I want you. I’ve never thought of resisting.
In the end it doesn’t matter really. If it’s a disease ,a cure , a miracle. If it exists or it’s a mere illusion. Whether it’s delirium or pandemonium. Whether we embrace its existence or not. Regardless all the names we give it, love simply is where it is. It all comes down to love. And in my case – to you. So I’m standing here, telling you that I love you. It’s not the first and it certainly won’t be  the last time I say this. And I’m not begging  for your love. I know I have it. Or at least I had it before they changed you.
All I need is a sign. A tiny inch of hope that you’re still in there. That there’s still chance for us. Forget about him. About what you’re supposed to do and feel and think. I know love is all about putting someone else's needs before yours. That whole crap about letting someone go if you truly love them. Bullshit. I think that Shakespeare guy had it all wrong . Romeo and Juliette chose the easy way out, being selfless and all. If I give up now the best I could hope for is for someone to write an epic and tragic love story about us. Fuck this. This is not my kind of love. I won’t give you up. And if this is selfish, than so am I. So is my love.
So, please, give me a sign you’re still in there. And you still love me. Because I always will. I never stood a chance anyway.”

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