Because I love you

«I only did it because I love you!»
Isn't that what traitors always say? How I've despised those words, how I've hated them! But now, they seem to have a new meaning. It's like they've dissolved before my very eyes, only to take new shape, to become something better.
Or is it simply my mind, trying to justify what I have done?

You know how they say that when you meet "The One," you know it right away? Well, I didn't. The feeling was more like an assassin, slowly creeping up behind me, closer and closer, until there was no escape. You don't know until you're dead, and then it is too late.

I first approached you as a friend, that's true, but after a while, your perfection became too painful, in fact, almost unbearable. And just the thought of someone, tainting that perfection, it disgusted me.
Like a child with stained fingers, smudging the surface of a blank sheet, that's how I felt. I didn't find myself worthy of being so close to you, none of us did, but you were so addictive. Your character, your smile, but most of all your acceptance, the way that everyone was someone, and I was more than anyone, you made me feel really safe.

And the first time you said you loved me, nothing compares to that.

But looking back at the days, the moments, I am not quite sure if it was really worth it. Ofcourse, when it all happened, when I was there, like that time by the lake, I thought that you could have just shot me. You could have shot me, and my entire life would have been worth it, just for the sake of those hours. But not anymore...

You see, even though you gave us, gave me, more than anyone could have given, you took perhaps even more away. And the worst thing about it, was that you didn't even seem to know. Like a hurricane, so powerful and exciting while it lasted, but then you left me, mutilated, behind.

And still, revenge had nothing to do with it, how could I even want such a thing?
I could have just killed you. Wouldn't that have been beautiful? I could have killed us both! We could have been like Romeo and Juliet, victims of love's violence, but no.

I think that perhaps even more beautiful than death itself, is a creature's response to death. That terrifying reaction, when you throw death into the cage of the creature's mind, throw it with such force, that the cage crumbles into bits and pieces, scattered about.

That is why I had to kill them. I had to kill your very world.
I wanted to push your beauty even further, to shatter you completely, break you down, until free from the influence of lesser beings. And then I knew you would, again, have that pure, original beauty, the beauty of a child, combined with the wisdom of and aged, or even dead person, that you'd finally be complete.


And honestly, have you ever seen anything more beautiful than the anemic pain of someone haunted by sorrow? I know I haven't. And when I now see you, or, when I saw you, I doubt that I will ever see you again, I know that, despite the costs, I have succeded.
Your eyes so tranquil, and yet your hands were twitching. Ghostlike and Godlike at the same time, like once again you were above all others, yes, I have succeeded.

And that sweet knowledge of the fact that I have driven something seemingly perfect, to a new level of perfection, and not only something, someone, someone I love, and yes, that is why I did it.

Because I love you.