Dear Reader,

Some poet said "Love makes you blind." The whole thought of to be struck by Cupid's arrow... to fall in love with the next person you see at first sight... That's a thought to fall in love with. The whole idea of, "Love makes you blind" is usually assosiated with the idea of foolishness. The foolishness of not being able to think clearly and not being able to see things for what they really are. I wonder if they ever thought of it as... That Cupid's arrow would only truly blind your eyes and only your sight will differ, not your thoughts... And now what was once hideous is now attractive and even the weeds would look like roses. Therefore the inner beauty has become the outter.

It's just a thought.

What would be the grand idea of love? What is it like... to know you love someone and knowing they love you back... and not being able to hold them or touch them. Only to whisper words... Words without promises. Words full of sweetness, full of honey, still, would that not be the greatest kind of love? Where there is no physicality, just emotions. Is that not what makes hold on to them? It's the touch, it's the feeling, it's the tingles down your spine. It's the way they trace the outline of your face... It's because they touch you... In the way that others never can. In the way you let them to. Love can be brains... It is most of the time anyway... but it's also blood. Blood screaming... screaming... screaming... Just screaming.

What is there for me now? Doubt that he'll ever look my way. Doubt he'll walk by side. Doubt that'll he'll ever whisper my name or make a sound so similar to it. I am not in love, but only love the idea of his shadow and the thought of him.

Yours Truly,
Nayt

Dear Reader,

What is it like outside now? I go out there... There is no window. There is no other opening. I want to see the stars. The stars always tried to burn my skin. Always tried to touch me. Scratch me on the inside. Tried to burn me with their stares. I used to think they were beautiful - Used to. They found it beautiful too. They tried to use the stars to burn me. To make me feel. They just wanted me to feel. I wouldn't have mind the pain if it didn't hurt so much as now. It's not all bad. Pain makes you feel. They just want me to feel. Sweet aren't they? Just reminding me that I'm alive and that I'm still here. Extremly sweet. Though it doesn't really matter how much they hurt now. Time takes away pain and there will be a time when the pain will be gone. A time when pain will be gone... and you're left alone... Though, it won't be gone forever. You just have to wait for the next stab to come along. Just wait. wait. wait.

I use to like the idea of being remembered. Now the idea of me leaving proof of my existence is beginning to annoy me. I'm just a phase here. Nothing there to remember. I'm not at all here... I'm not at all there either. I use to know where here and there was. Now I'm just lost. Or maybe it's here and there that's lost. I want here and there to find me. Though, they probably wouldn't want to bother now would they? The world's falling down. Falling, falling, falling. Or maybe it escaped. It makes me so tired to bother. Where did the world run to now?

I can smell ash around here. Someone is hiding something. Everyone is afraid now but then everyone is trying not to care of what they think of them. It's rather strange though. They use to pick up after themselves, now they just want the whole world to see the mess that they've made. Mess is art though apparently. Mess is truthful they say, not a very clear truth but it's still honest I suppose. Dance, dance, dance. They dance all aroud their mess, it makes them happy. When they're happy, it makes me think. Makes me wonder how long it'll take till they fall. Fall with me now won't you? There's nothing down there really. It's just the whole falling bit that's painful. Glass seems to be everywhere now. Clear glass. It doesn't come at you though, more like you're attracted to them and you just have to hit every single shard of glass, till you can't bleed no more. No... no more.

They're pulling my wings out of me. Apparently it was growing inside of me and now they're big enough to be pulled out. I just want it to stop. I don't want my wings anymore. I stopped begging for it. Yet, he came and reached into my skin, muscle, bone... My spine... deep. deep. His hand was cold, that I remember, everything else, just didn't hurt. He's pulling them out. I wonder what colour they are. They keep on changing. I wonder who's wings I stole this time.I hope they won't miss it.

They let me sleep that night. Finally. There was a catch to it though. They made me wake up to an empty day. An empty day. More emptier then the usual. I suppose its better then nothing now right? What does it mean though? Naturally, there's no answer to that. I know when to stop expecting for one. Still, I'm pleading to who ever they are though. Talk to me. Look at me. Acknowledge me.

It's happening again. My body starts to bleed and yet there is no open wound. Only those two white scars. Old, faded, white scars. Two white scars, where they took my wings. Like he said, he could only give back what he has taken. There's too much red. There's too much. Wounds inflicted upon me outside of time. Where he is forever gone.

Deliver me... she pleaded silently through her tears as she bit her own lips and tasted the crimson that flows through her... Deliver me from this wanting. Her tears began to hurt. Release me from this hope that has no hope, this desire that I did not desire. She began to choke. Erase these thoughts of white hands, dark eyes, soft lips - all these things that can never... never ever be mine. There... right there, it was infront of her. Take away this pain, or deliver me of this love. Him. Only make it stop. Make it stop.

Yours Truly,
Me

Dear Reader,

It's beginning to be unhealthy for her to be in this situation. Why is she so stubborn? Must she prove me wrong? She knows... I'm always right though, don't you just hate that? Pathetic child. Silly, silly, little girl. I pity her so. Once again she's trapped and she's screaming... The screaming though, it's... it's all wrong. It's too deep. No, no, no. It's as if she didn't force herself to. Tsk, tsk, tsk, though what does it matter? A scream is a scream, it's just that... this is not that enjoyable. She's out of practice. She needs someone to play with. I was thinking bout them. Oh, she wants to play with them too, except that, she's not ready. When though... when, when, when. This game is getting rather difficult to play; it's too much tiresome after a while. When though shall we forget this... when, when, when. They don't treat you as nicely as you wish for them too. When will you ever learn... when, when, when. No one's ever, ever, ever, going to love you like the way you want them too. Ever is a long time... maybe it'll be longer.

They ask, they all ask... Why be emotionless? Why act like I don't care, when I do? Simply, why? Why. Why. Why. Lets see... I am what you could call, selfish no? You pay attention to this. I don't know how far you plan to go, but pay attention. When did this all started... when, when, when. It was after Nayt though, that I can remember. Darling sister, you helped invent me. Damn you. Must've been that pain of realization. Why was it that before I imagined all good things in the end and not the struggle to get there? We all do that don't we? Now, for me. Pain, hate, fear. Main ingredients that made turned me this way. Now, the fire of making this recipe to work was... love? Hell no. It's power. Control. Superiority. I was ridiculously weak before wasn't I. Well not me, just her. Pain is the definition of my world. It no longer hurts me from the inside. Oh, no, no, no. Though lately, she's been at it again, why does she bother, as I said this situation is unhealthy for her, why, why, why. All of those... dreams, heartaches, yes they still exists, but it's in this little hole that I dug up and pushed all of them in and sealed up perfectly. I just don't remember where that hole is now. It won't matter. Hopefully, it won't. Why do this though? Why be emotionless... why. Why. Why.

This coldness is what makes me human. I am human. Not humane, but human. These icebergs that floats in my veins, to the centre of my heart, where the river is frozen into diamonds. Hard, cold diamonds. Where all life is still. All life is cold and meaningless. It is all frozen, cold, sharp, painful and always piercing. Yes... it pierces. This is what's it like. Waking up, knowing one day she might take over again, and become weak. Knowing one day my existence will one day perish, all because of... She's weak. So I shape the world for her, shape a world, where she knows no love, no pain, no hatred and yet I cannot take out the fear. Fear is what keeps this world alive. I'm simply narrowing her world, her path for her. From the tiniest point, to this long, fixed, dark path, where of course... Her end will find her. Just for a few seconds, I have a purpose. A meaning. To protect her, or me rather. Sometimes I question if this as enough, but now I know this is all I got.

She just wants to be released.

Yours Truly,
Nayt

Dear Reader,

My chains are rusting. I think God has forgotten to replace them with new ones. I think they're about to break, I can hear them stretch. The smell's unusual... because there's none. God, I need new chains. God, please don't forget to replace them. God, could you just add one more? God, what about my soul? It's causing for the chains to rust so much. It's been crying. I'm sorry I haven't noticed it. There's been too much laughter around. My wings seem to be growing back too. I thought those wounds on my back would just heal up and I'd never see them again. It doesn't even hurt. It doesn't hurt. What's happening? Why... Why am I going back to where I started? Did I finally do something right? God... are you... are you letting me start all over again? No... no... don't make me go back. You don't know what it's like. Why now? Why is it when I've made a decision, you seem to try and change it all? You're testing me. You're still testing me.

My brain hurts. Not my head. I can't think. I'm even having a hard time trying to type this up. It's not coming natural to me. Have I lost my passion for fear, pain and hate? I don't feel so empty though, still there's this thing that's... that's just there. What is it though... I'm beginning to feel that I'm not here. I'm just not. How could I be? What am I really to the world? Maybe I'm just one of those blurs in the world. Can you see me? Could you read my mind? If you could, then stop it. Stop it before I start thinking you care. You don't though do you... I guess that's all right then. Could you tell me what's on my mind? Could you tell me why I've ended up this way? Everything's going so fast. I'm missing every moment that... every moment that... every moment. Every moment of what though? There was nothing there for me to hold on to. To cling on or dream about. There was just nothing. What am I... What was I?

God, please don't make me do this again. God, please don't make me afraid not to close my eyes. God... please, please, make the time to listen to me like you always do... What am I suppose to do now? Wait. Shh. She's crying again. Stupid, stupid, little girl.

Yours Truly,
Nayt

Dear Reader,

I can’t shut Nayt down. I just realized it counts as killing her and I can’t kill what is now and has always been apart of me. I think she’s been trying to get out again. I was doing fine for the first three weeks and I thought I’m finally where I never really but did wanted to be. I am emotionless. I am finally above emotions and attachments. At least I thought I was. Nayt’s not letting me sleep anymore, she keeps whispering in my ear about things, things that I can’t even talk about. They’re all lies to me. All lies. Yet they’re such truthful beautiful lies.

How is it that when I look into the mirror, I don’t care what I see? Still, it frightens me to even glance, unless I really need to look at myself and that’s when I’m only being vain. It doesn’t last long though, because then I see her. Nayt is smiling at me, because she knows what I’m thinking, and she knows what I’d do once I get everything sorted out. Why does she do this to me? Maybe I’m being crazy or paranoid that I’m making another character up. If not then why can I see her? Why is she breathing down my neck, surrounding my me, her lips don’t move but she’s telling me things that I don’t want to know… things that I want to hear. After she does that, she scratches me on my arm, my hips, the back of my knees… she’s being considerate though. At least they’re places where I can hide them easily. Lately though, there’s been more marks on my body. Nayt smiles every time she sees them. She tells me that one-day it’ll go away. One day is a long time though. How is it that she does this to me? How is it that those marks are there? She says they’re good signs. I believe her, but they’re so visible.

She’s half angry with me now. She doesn’t like it when I open myself to someone. Especially when it’s this quick. I’m successfully blocking out all of her thoughts about that though. She’s curious to know how long this will last. She’s thinking it might be a few months but she knows it be less then a year, well at least she hopes so, that’s what she told me. Though Nayt, since I know you’re reading this as I type this out, what if it lasts for such a long time? You’re going to hate me, won’t you? You’re going to despise me for letting this happen. How am I weak you ask? I’m not weak; I am just better then you. That’s a lie isn’t it though? Stop laughing. I can hear you laugh. I can feel it. You’re just scared aren’t you Nayt? You know that there’s a chance that they might be… I’ll stop there. You’re too scared. I’m too scared. I want to be like you… but I want to be myself too.

Everybody cries right? Have you ever seen Nayt cry? Nope, nor have I, but she nearly did though. You had to pity here, all she wanted was to be spiritually beautiful and thinking that letting her thoughts out, it’d help her get there. White was the light she wanted, not this dark gloomy… blue light she has. Why blue? Why not black? Same reason as why the grass is green and the sky is blue. She’s so obsessed now, with the emptiness. Just like the way she write her letters. They’re really empty, unless she’s thinking about him again. Or them. Yes them… I… We hate it when they play around with us. It’s not right. They ‘caused this to us. We’ll need a way around the whole thing. Trap them. Make them play their own little games. It’d be fun to watch them, won’t it? I’m laughing at them now. We both are.

Yours Truly,
Me.