whatever our souls are made of

“I never want to come back here again. I fucking hate it here. And they all fucking hate me. I pay for everything. I make sure everyone has clothes they like. I make sure the food is perfect. That father is buried next to his parents, that the tomb is perfect. And the only fucking word I ever hear is: i want more Ilya, i need more Ilya. More, more, more, more, more. And I have nothing for these people. I give them everything.. but I feel fucking empty. They don't care, they look at me and see a bank. Or an enemy. Or I don't even know what. My brother, he always hated me. And I know why... but it kills me. And it kills me that he took care of my father and I didn't. But I couldn't. I wasn't here. I still paid for it all. And he will never forgive me. For any of it. For existing. And it means... I have no one now. Well not no one, I have Svetlana. She loves me, and I love her. But not like... fuck me. But not like I love you. That's the worst fucking part of all this is. That all I want is you. It's always you. I'm so in love with you and I don't know what to do about it.

Jacob and I talked about this even before we did it-