It seems I'll become a regular patron here. Ah, well. I have nowhere else to speak my thoughts and feelings. I fear even our dearest friends will see me as insane, or unhinged, or unwell. Perhaps it's not entirely untrue. That isn't a reality I'm able to face yet, though.
I adore my Christine. To the point of destruction. To the point of obsession. It scares me. It terrifies me, oftentimes, to realize just how much I was willing to break and hurt just to love her. And to be loved by her. I cannot earnestly say that I wouldn't do it again.
My beautiful flower. Delicate. Loving. Ever turning towards your Sun. Will He burn you out? Will He dry your roots before your Water is able to replenish you? I wish that I could love you better, my songbird.
-O.G. (Erik; Phantom of the Opera.)
x
