To The Reader

A story in progress, a blurb or description would be and is pointless as I don't know the end of this story. I don't even know the middle yet, let alone the start. You do. The Reader.


1. Assessment

Love is bullshit. How can you ever truly love anyone? It's impossible. You can't love someone for who they are. Only what you think they are, whatever they lead you to believe. My love is different, our love is different. You're the only one who can ever truly love me, you know my past, my mistakes, my worries, fears, experiences...I can't hide from you, so long as you keep this book open.

I'm not a superhero, I don't have some amazing ability, i'm not special, i'm just a person.
I'll never meet you, i'll never get to see you cry, laugh, dance, have your first kiss, see you move away, I'll never get to touch you, and that is my biggest regret, that's the greatest tragedy.
You are the lucky one, you can finish this book, this vessel of pages filled with my memories of you, our memories and relive everything. Re-live us. I can't. It terrifies me. If i'm just a character in a book, then the last page is the end of me.


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