Oh, my darling… my sins are way beyond salvation. What would be the point of stopping, and considering my actions? Only to be engulfed in crippling doubt and uncertainty – that no one in the world can solve, and no gods are alive anymore to lift? I have rattled those chains for too long, dragging my feet into this mud. I do hope you have a lot of faith – it might help you… though if you ask me, most certainly won’t save you. We’re already doomed, you see, we always were. These here are toys for rats in a maze. And the maze has no escape. so… if I can’t be saved, or forgiven, or even forgotten – shan’t I use these toys as they please me, and live the truth of my essence?

It’s been long since I saw anything but blood. You’re an entertaining company and I thank you for that. I’ve come to love you. To desire you, even. But I won’t be fooled by these notions anymore. They are great to live by, but not worth dying for. (…) This look in your eyes. You’re a hopeless romantic, are you not? Ha! You amaze me. I’m sad to have broken your heart now. Guess it didn’t cross my mind you would feel the same. You know what, maybe we should embrace it. As I was saying, to live the truth of us. To feel so deeply.

It’s not that I don’t feel anymore. I feel too much. I’ve just come to realise it’s hope I’m lacking. Hope for something to transcend – of myself, of us. What worth do we have on any grand schemes, if there are any? Do you think one day someone in the stars would know my name? Or yours?

So there’s the root of all this. I think this “specks of dust” way of seeing is actually beautiful. You see the stars? They don’t mind. They won’t care. Anything won’t ever know we existed, but us. And I’m tired of pretending otherwise. My sin was to want too much, to allow my ego to go beyond the stars. Not anymore. I will not give up, as I thought about doing a thousand times or more. Oh, no… there’s too much beauty in this chaos. Too much to live if you don’t close your eyes to possibilities, if you don’t believe a crap about what others say of what you are or should be. They meet their fates. I will meet mine, and be the sword of many others.

I long for touching you. Feeling you. I hope you will forgive my monologue. I’m way older than I look or that I can prove. It’s a part of an old man’s heart to talk too much. We are here to set our world in flames. And I can only hope you will forgive me. I most certainly will hurt you.

(originally written in 25/05/2021)