Reading Stoic_Slaughter's journal

Dear mister boring...
It's been a while since your last letter, this is true. I guess you're right about a few things. Maybe you wouldn't be so right if you weren't so beautiful, huh? Is that the hook, or is it your essence? That's been my question all along, I think. I look at you and I love you then, so it's got to be something more shallow than I'd like to think. How I miss you, mister boring. You've got the loveliest arms and the sweetest words I've ever experienced, and you've always been there when I've needed you. Now you're gone, and you've been gone for such a while, and I should be able to leave it all. I actually ran from you, physically, straight for someone else... or a few others, I suppose. But what of my mind? My chest has never had so many holes in it at once, and I am distraught to discover that mindless affection means nothing. There are others who I might love... who might, in turn, love me... but I know, I know, mister. I know the situation is wrong, or the timing is off, or they lived in some other lifetime with some other gal and pined for me innocently, but it's YOU, isn't it?

It's always you.
It'll always be you.

Oh, the tragic affairs of the beautiful.

For my next trick, I shall make you all disappear.