The world is coming to an end! Explosions! Lots of them!

Bombs!

Seriously, guys, I have no idea what's going on outside our building, right now, but it's loud, explosive, and freakish. Sounds a bit like fireworks. But...louder. And...why are there fireworks in September? It's kinda freaky. Seriously, we're all gonna die. (The fact that we're bordering this massive cemetary makes it all the freakier. I swear, the dead are busting out of their graves!)

The world is ending, anyway. Everything is coming to an end. Someone I love doesn't trust me, anymore, and I can't stand thinking about it. It's all my fault and I don't know how to make it better.

All I want to do is...tell her that I want her to be happy, whatever that means. I want her to find every bit of what she's looking for. I love her, and I promise that love is just friendship, this time. I want her to do whatever makes her happy. If she wants me to continue being innocent and naive, I will. I will. I'll jump and laugh and give her sunshine. I'm good at that; it's no trouble whatsoever.

I won't cross that line. I never wanted to believe in it, before, but I'll respect it, now. I'll stay on my side. I won't ask, again. I swear. It's not my place. It's not my problem. It's not any of my business.

I want to tell her that I'm dark, addicted, and manipulative, too. She wouldn't believe that, but it's true. I've been chasing after my own, personal high for about two years. Manipulating, slipping on a mask and faking it, just to get my drug. Me? Manipulative? Addicted? Yeah. It's just in a different, more subtle way. I understand what she's trying to say, about the needing, the craving. I get it. I want to tell her that she can chase what she craves, I won't stop her. And I will continue after my own, personal high. (No, love, it's not chocolate.)

I want to tell her that it's okay to leave me behind. That idea hurt, before, but I refuse to drag her down to my level. Yeah, I'm weak. Yeah, I'm possessive. Yeah, I'm clingy as hell. No, I won't make her stick by me when all she wants to do is move on.

That's okay. I want to tell her that she's not required to fake it.

I want to tell her that it's not her responsibility to take care of me. She doesn't have to watch after me, give me what she thinks I need. (But if she wants to, if she wants to, I'll let her.)

I want to tell her...that we're both monsters.

I want to tell her...'don't hate me.'

That's all I ask, at this point. That someday, in the future, I hope she is able to look back on me with fondness.

That's all I ask.

Eli.

(ps. I have a bruise on my arm. I have no idea where it came from. It appeared this morning, I think. I mean, after last night, I would've expected scars....scabs...stuff like that. But a bruise? Hmmm... (Yeah, this was a pathetic attempt at trying to make her worry. I'll shut up, now.))