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In the beginning, I said I loved you.

I meant it then, and I mean it now.

My pen lifts from the paper as I raise the back end to my lips, closing my eyes to think before scribbling away again.

The words hover right above my head, the right words, the ones I want to share with you...

But they never seem to come out when I need them.

Only the wrong words come out.

And sometimes the wrong actions.

You know what I'm talking about, don't you? We've done horrible things to each other.

...No.

Horrible is too strong a word.

I try not to think about it, because it pains me every time I do. Even now, so far away from the situation, it hurts just as much as it did the night I found out. Just like it hurt for you, but I think it's safe to say I took it much, much worse than you.

You're stronger than I am. You can handle these things.

I...

I am weak. Pathetically so.

Helpless.

I put the pen down completely, the words are uncatchable. It's useless now.

I've grown so much since then. It was the end of my innocence and the beginning of my seduction, my sick pleasures and fantasies with you. Neither of us would have it any other way.

It's beautiful.

Like you.

Like us.

I can go all the way back, to the very start. Naive. I was so disgustingly naive to how used I was. But I loved it, blissfully and ignorantly adored every moment of sweetness.

Then, the storm passed through, a whirlwind of eye-opening truths and stomach-churning lies, all of which changed me. I'm glad for it. Everything is over now, anyways, it's peaceful. I'm glad for that, too.

The pen stays abandoned by the notebook, like it has been for months now.

I'm a hypocrite. But you loved her, and he was nothing to me.

It's so different now.

You're everything to me.

I believe you when you say the same.

I have no reason not to believe you. Maybe I did back then; not now. Not ever. This won't end. We won't end.

I swear.

In the end, I'll say I love you.

I'll mean it then, just like I mean it now.

I heard that one song on the radio today.

You know, the one you told me about a few months ago.

I’m growing to hate it. No. Hate is too strong. I dislike it.

Is that alright with you? That I don’t like it anymore? I wouldn’t want to hurt those fragile feelings of yours. I’ve done it too many times already. Sorry about that.

I used to like it.

Actually, I used to love it. Just like I used to love you.

Well…

I still love you. That’s alright too, isn’t it? That I love you still? Even if I don’t like that song? The one that you said is ours? Is that a bad thing? I don’t think so… Am I hurting your feelings again? I don’t mean to. I’m sorry.

I’m out of excuses as to why I don’t like the song. You keep trying to play it, but the CD isn’t really static-filled in my earphones, and it’s not really skipping. I just don’t want to hear it.

How can I tell you that?

I take a deep breath.

The words come out.

Such a small feat… Such a small deal, really.

But it’s big for you. The earphones are suddenly on the floor, so is the player. My earlobes hurt from where the buds were jerked out. My eyes sting from the water welling in them as my heart aches from listening to you rage.

Why is it such a big deal?

Why… are we, us, lovers, such a big deal?

Everything is that way to you.

I guess it’s my fault.

I’m sorry, again.

I stand before an alter, an abyss of death and darkness, and in front of me is a line.

It is blood red, the color of your own sweet blood, for you stand beside me and it has fallen from your body. Your hand holds my own, and while my eyes rest upon you, your own are scanning the abyss, weighing your options.

You can cross the line and lose me…

Or stay, swaying on the edge, with me.

I am the reason you are still here, which is bittersweet. Sweet, because I love you, but bitter, because the beautiful release you long for is on the other side of that line, at the bottom of that chasm.

You inch forward, as close as you can, and my grip on your hand tightens. I won’t let you go like that.

It’s a crime to hold you back, I know. And I can’t think of an excuse.

Can either of us ever be happy? You find your peace in death. I find my peace in you. You stay because of this. I beg you to stay, regardless of status.

I’m selfish.

And still… I can think back to our first days, when things seemed happier, when we weren’t as concerned with the things we are now. When we were still getting used to each other.

As much as I’d like to say I miss those days… I don’t. I wouldn’t change the way things are for the world. I wish neither of us ever, ever had a breakdown, I wish I never had to listen to you cry and you never had to comfort me through my own tears, but…

I feel close to you.

And I hope you feel close to me.

We were innocent back then. Too innocent. At least, I was. You’ve opened my eyes, which were so desperately closed. You did the one thing I’ve been longing for, that no other boy could possibly fathom doing.

You changed me, for the better.

I was lifeless, just a being with no purpose. No true thought as to how anything worked, or why anyone acted the way they did. I was more selfish then than I am now.

You breathed life into me, and woke me from my self-therapeutic slumber.

You’re the first person I’ve ever sacrificed to be with. The only happiness I’ve ever put above my own.

I am nothing without you.

My eyes finally shift away from you, to the bloody line where the tips of your feet reside. As my gaze moves to the dark pit in front of us, your own notice me. Your hand returns the squeeze as you turn, back facing the chasm.

I can’t help myself. I throw my body into yours, knocking us both over the boundary and into the void.

For my happiness is yours, and yours is my own.

Now, we’re both at peace.