A Love Letter To A Friend.
Treat me not with the merciless indignity of friendship.
Not when I have wanted you so viscerally. Not when you occupy my every waking thought, and then, not content with that daylight mastery, you omnipotently deign to also haunt my dreams... such carnal dreams...
Of course I should not be complaining. It is a clemency that you enter me at all, even if you might not choose to. I want you inside my mind. In depraved, destructive ways. I want to be defiled by you, owned by you, kept by you. I want to languish in the power of your magnificence, to be nourished and then to die from your presence, as a flower wilts in too much life-giving sunlight.
But it cannot be so and I know it.
This intellectual fantasy, this... sensationalist fetish... does not align with my reality. And I am even now grimacing at myself for writing such ludicrous drivel.
It’s true, to be sure, you have never met a person so able to argue herself out of a compliment.
She seems nice, you might think on a first glance, or at least calm and undramatic, she might be fun to hang around with.
Not a moment later you will stagger back in horror, entirely convinced by my pompously eloquent self-flagellation that in fact I am just as demonically grotesque as the most barbarously gnarly beldam in existence. That I am but a vile putrid wretch! Let me alone to wallow in my egotistical misery!
...I take it all back.
I retract my words from you as a cat retracts it’s claws from a beloved scratching post, getting them caught and meowing pitifully for release from my self-inflicted predicament.
Treat me, please, with the merciful dignity of friendship.
Could it really be possible that a being as flamboyantly monstrous as myself could be gifted such a forgiveness?
Surely it cannot be hoped.
But either way, I promise that I shall henceforth endeavor to be more worthy of such a compassion.