To reflect, for a moment, that I am not ready, that the world forgave me for what I did, but what about you? You’ve told me a lot of what has been bothering you, but never quite put your finger on me, on the person that I used to be, the one that now you hate.
In regards to that, the only defense that I have is that I was willfully ignorant, spiteful, and vengeful, and with that in mind, I enjoyed it so much, that I traveled across the entire world just in search of someone like you, just to watch them squirm in the same place I used to stand. If I was to suffer so thoroughly, it made sense that you would do as well. If I was ever to feel sympathy, what would I do with that? That great evil in me, it cannot sustain itself by crying over someone else.
And you noticed it right away, so I gave me something better than my love: a reason to continue existing with me, and the more dependent we became of one another, the more I reflected upon my way of thinking. Why was I losing this battle? Why had I not ceased to be in all the matters that had made me so hostile? I was determined to go all the way in, and make you hate me, and detest me, and be repulsed by me, and that was making me so happy, that I laughed at my own face sometimes, just thinking about some future happiness that humiliating you was going to bring me.
Say my name, I used to say, and you followed along, but there was something in the look that made me reflect on what kind of person I really was. I had already reflected on who I was becoming, and it made me glad, but I thought verily and completely, and finally cried and said something that made me clench my teeth, and bite my own hand, and scream, scream into a surface that could soften the blow of my voice. I was frustrated at last, and all the fun I was supposed to be having, was dissipating, and you were crying, and I was crying, and you said something about love, and I tried to follow along, and it was all so fruitless. I thought it was a mess that I ever agreed to like you.
I reflect again, and with a moment’s notice, I finally have the final say in what will be our final confrontation. That I was sorry to having hurt you, which was not true, that I was sorry that this couldn’t work, which was not true, that I was sorry that a relationship so beautiful could ever blossom into something so pathetic, which was not true, and on, I lie and lie and you believe the lie. First, the smallest one, and then, the one I actually care about. and the feelings in that decayed brain of yours will be of warmth. Despite all the suffering, you will sleep believing I am a good person that smiles for something else, that has learned to love a memory of fleeting, supposed happiness and I can sleep happily, grinning infinitely, that you believed me, that you believe me, and that you will believe me. I have reflected too much on my own person, of what my soul means to me, what about you? What will you say to yourself when you realize the oafish, weak-minded idiot you really are? A lie, of course, I imagine, I sense, I conclude as I wave, can always with a kiss with someone like you, as long as I am the one saying it.