Things are made to be broken.
They don't tell you that. They never prepare you for that inevitable moment when everything falls apart.
I loved her. Will you at least believe that? I loved her. I worshipped her. I was completely devoted to her. I would have destroyed entire planets for her, I would have slayed every single being in this galaxy for her, I would have given up my life a thousand times and a thousand times again for her.
Of course it was not enough. It can never be enough.
The void draws us all, calls us with the sweet promise of oblivion, and no amount of love can ever be enough to bridge the distance. No amount of love can ever save us.
I would have been better off without it. That, at least, they tried to tell me.
I would not listen. I thought I could be different. Or I just didn't care. I don't know anymore. What does it matter anyway?
Things are made to be broken, and break they did, and nothing matters anymore. Nothing ever will again.
I should be dead, but I live. Not because I wish to, but what alternative do I have? The pain is with me always, and not even in death can I escape it. So, I go on living. Maybe, if I am true to the choice I've made, the pain will fade in time. I can pray, though I cannot bring myself to hope.
Hope does not exist in the abyss. Just as well – hope is an illusion
They don't tell you that either.
I loved her.
I love her still. That is my punishment.