Today is another day. There is still no one in the house, it is just myself. And..and her.
Her. My love, my life. The one who helps me, holds me, loves me. She makes me better. She is all I need.
I ran into her when I was 21. I was walking, coming home from something, when I met her. She was at the corner of the street, almost as if she was waiting for me. And then I knew she was the one. It was destiny, it was fate. I love her, and she loves me.
And she has such a beautiful name, too. Rosamund. She tells me it means mistress, which I think fits her very well. She's amazing, and perfect. I love her so much.
She reminds me of an old friend I had..but I can't remember her name. Oh well. I know she's long gone. She got the hell out of the Bronx, she's the one who made it.
Rosamund truly is amazing..I love her. Hell, I would marry her, if I could.
Well..if love is real. My past experiences have led me to believe love isn't real. Love is some twisted fairytale fed to us by our parents to make us hope for something that isn't real, is it not? Love is somethingt that was taught to us when we were children, to make us believe. I sure as hell don't believe anymore. It's not of my own personality, to believe in a foolish thing such as love. Love is stupid, love is chaotic. Love is something I have learned to love without.
I learned that enough from my ex fiancè. He was a terrible man, an evil man. I was foolish, dumb enough to think a man like him would ever love me. Love was never a tale for a girl like me. I was designed to be lonely, to have friends, yes, but never love..
Rosamund..I have to tell her. I can't love her, but I cannot live without her. That is what scares me the most, I would say.
Oh, to be a lovestruck fool. To be someone so stricken with the affliction of love that it consumes them. I wish for a love like that, yet I know I will not have one.
Oh well. All the better to be unfeeling.
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