murder-suicide

it kills me, every time i log into facebook, and see you in the 'you are friends with...' box. in that little left-hand corner; obscured in my peripheral view, but grabbing the most attention nonetheless.

it kills me, every time i meet a mutual friend (and sometimes not-so-mutual ones) and (s)he asks what has happened to 'our old friends', and i can only reply that some of them have gone on with their lives, lost forever in a sea of never-ending work, pursuit of great justice (also known as money) and devotion to the loved and the loving.

it kills me, every time someone inquires if i have finally worked up the courage (though rarely, as only a handful of confidants can do so). if i have learned that there can be no gain if nothing is risked. if i have found in a leap of faith, the will and the ability to forsake all reason, in return for potential bliss (though, for how long, nobody can say). if i have even tried to speak, where and when words will probably fail, but gestures will talk on my behalf.

it kills me, every time i think, that there is no purpose in the world. and that nothing much can be done that escapes naught; and i find that every single time, though the list may change, you are there as an exception.

it kills me, every time i am reminiscent and think, that in a parallel universe, in a separate timeline, in a potential space-time singularity, i am brave, and kind, and smart, and funny, and rich in my poorness, and attractive in my loathsomeness. that i am worthy, even with sin.

it kills me when i theorise and make scenarios where devotion and submission are the themes that dictate the things that i may and will do. because, in these hypothetical situations, i am a man greater than i could ever be, and in them i am not so meek as to warrant some kind of attention, even if it be the notorious kind. as we all know well, bad boys are where it's at, anyway.

but it wouldn't kill me, if you did. and for that, it kills me, when i think that you should, but you don't.

sometimes, suicide is the easier way out, and murder is my only salvation.