This is centered around Giselle. It's supposed to be Albrecht's thoughts a while after Giselle's death, maybe a few months or so. I wasn't sure when I wrote it.
Sometimes I sit there and I just wish it didn't happen, that I never loved you. But then I remember your bright, blue eyes and your gorgeous brown hair and I instantly regret it. Even for those short summer months, you were the light of my life and I wish I'd have been able to tell you. I really do.
Sometimes I wish that I had never met you. But then I remember your smile and the way you made everyone else pale in comparison. You stood out amongst the others and you drew me in with your innocence. I wish you knew that.
Sometimes I wonder why I even fell in love with you. I can sit in my library, filled with books that my mother loved, that my wife loves. I always think about you and she knows that. She doesn't try to stop me. I know she didn't want to marry me after what had happened with you, didn't want me to break her heart as well.
Sometimes I want to know what the villagers think of me. I remember when you just slipped through my arms, the way your friends just started in shock. I remember falling to my knees, reaching for your hands, your skirt, your head, anything I could feel. I remember watching your arm fall limping to your side as it slipped from my grasp. It broke my heart to see that, did you know that?
Sometimes I stare blankly into space, remembering that one night, right after you have died. I remember all those ghosts, all those lovely women who still paled in comparison to you. You were the one I wanted, ever since I met you. You're still the one I want, do you know that?
Sometimes I remember the way my mother spoke to me, clearly angry at me for jeopardizing my engagement and how I was able to agree with her. But then I remember how you played that game, the way I was able to fool you so easily. I wasn't trying to fool you, did you know that? I wasn't lying, either. I hope you knew that.
Sometimes I remember the way you believed everything I said. I really did love you. I still do. I try not to think about you sometimes, because it hurts and I just want to rip out my heart. It won't make a difference, not to me. It'll still be empty where it shouldn't be.
Sometimes I like feeling empty, because it helps me remember you. Even as a ghost, you were still you. You were still the one I love. And it's so hard to not go back and let myself dance all over again, because there's the chance that you'll be with them. I just want to see you so badly. You were the only one that mattered, did you know that?
And sometimes, just sometimes, I wish I didn't even exist anymore. It's selfish, but I just want to be with you. Maybe I won't be with you, and that still breaks my heart every time. I just want you to know that I love you, and I think that if it's all over and I'm dead and in the ground, I can find you somehow and I'll be able to tell you.
But it's so selfish. There are still people who come to visit us, Bathilde and I. I don't talk much, though. Bathilde is great at hiding everything from them. I feel bad, thinking about leaving her, even though I know she doesn't care for me and that she has someone else, someone who keeps her warm at night and someone she cares about. Maybe it's not so selfish; maybe she'll be able to not be burdened with a husband who doesn't care at all.
I just really want to stop thinking about "what ifs." I don't want to know about what would've happened if you hadn't died. I imagine that you would've married Hilarion, had he not been killed. I saw them kill him, I saw them force him to dance before they just threw him into the lake, watching him drown before laughing. They're not like you, not at all.
But in the end, I still can't help but know that I was the one that killed you and you were the one that saved me. I wish you hadn't stopped them. It would've been better for me, to just die and not have to feel this aching pain, this terrible grief. But that's your punishment, isn't it? To make me hurt and cry for the rest of my life for taking yours away from you. And what a fitting punishment that is.