Bless My Heart That Holds This Greed

My heart races in agony at the mere thought of your soul being wiped from this earth. How do you do that to me? How do you make me all at once want to live for you, to kill for you, to die for you? Why must you keep pushing me to be better when you know that this is as good as I will get? I'm not sure if you're understanding; but you cannot fix me; I've been crushed to a complete dust. And in all honesty, in the breathtaking reality - I cannot fix you, for you are already perfect. These are completely different paths to a fork in this road of burdens.

Please do not cry for me when you finally see I haven't grown as much as you think I have. Please do not shed tears at the sight of me giving up, of me finally falling - my last breath fading out from my parted lips.

 We were never lovers; we never could go quite that far. However, romance doesn't have to be between only lovers. I was in love with you, and you with me, but we were not each other's. We had performances in gunfire, dancing with each other as though we were the only ones allowed to witness. In this we shared things with each other among all of the blood and the death. We made it beautiful in a friendship that made us as close as these myths of lovers.

Promise me, love. Promise me that you won't go to the extent I would to protect someone that you can’t call your own - someone who could never be yours. I cannot stand to see you get hurt in such a way. I could never let you do that to yourself. No one on this Earth - no one on Mars could deserve your life for theirs to merely be saved themselves. Please step back and stay peaceful, or make yourself known but never heard, my dear. Be a silent and steady legend, one that is written of in tales, but only ever seen to be that - a tale. State your glory, live the life you've always wanted to risk - but do it in the dark, for me.
My soaring outlook on the freedom that has been ripped from my begging palms, my life taken from me and put onto the strings of a puppet master - I shouldn't be okay with this, but I am. I remain content with the fact I no longer have control because I've always lacked it anyways. If anything, I have more control now, for if I cannot run through my own fields picking every wrong path, someone doing it for me must simply be easier. Do not do what I have done though, do not be content with this, this is not a life anymore worth living than the ones of the already dead. 

You may come along on this journey, share it here with me now. Hold my beating heart in your hands and watch it consume its own compartments in self-destructive tendencies. You are not responsible to help it heal, just watch me as I die. 

Unwritten letters to Darla.