A Plagiarized Love Story
30/1/2011
Derek wouldn't let me outside today.
I sit in this blinding room of caged solitude, having nothing but the faint glimmer of sunlight, these words, and my love for you, to keep me sane. As I write these words, I eagerly await the visit of my kids I never had; lamenting the societal mandated visit, wishing they were fucking their lover’s bloody brains out instead.
Listen to me, sounding like I always feared.
Maybe it's for the best I never had kids. They would have turned out that way; George and Elizabeth would've been little shits.
But with no forced visits, I spend another day, week, month, year, millennium, or maybe just another day by myself. This wasted time makes me regret not writing a fourth book.
Or it makes me regret writing the third.
4/2/2011
There's a common phrase that goes something like “Finding love in all the wrong places” or some generic saying like that, from the cesspool of forget me now phrases. Strangely enough, I identify more with a cliché than anything else, besides you of course. It means more to me than my lucky typewriter with most of the original parts replaced, more than my Pulitzer Prize for my second book, The Road. My money would be would be here, but it ceased being mine a long time ago.
That saying is my life; it is making me insane. My mom always said I would be a “nutter”, that it runs in the family. Certainly nothing or no one runs in our family, but maybe that's something else I'm wrong about. “Why don't you find someone nice and settle down?”, she always nagged. At the time, I thought it was Kai... We were ready for it too. My first two books were doing great, I was done touring, and we reached our fourth year in our relationship. Kai always joked that if my publisher dropped me, we would become broken and homeless together. Well, I am broke, but this place isn't the right environment for love.
And I certainly can't settle down with you. There are difficult, maybe impossible boundaries that extinguish any hope I have. But that doesn't stop me from always thinking about it.
I'm going to have to talk to Derek. He was completely wrong, writing is not helping me at all.
14/4/2011
Love and lament are strange feelings. When love goes wrong, it becomes just like lament. Two completely separate and different entities become one, inseparable and indistinguishable. How I long for that kind of companionship, even if I will lament it later. It's something more than anyone I have known had to offer me, including family, my old Oxford buddies and flatmates... and Kai..
Valentine’s Day was never really the most celebrated “holiday” back where I grew up, in Sevenoaks. It was more of a forced tradition, than anything. At Oxford, it was hit or miss. I remember seeing this one giving his gal a romantic picnic in the middle of a courtyard, and my friend Daisy gagged. What's worse is that she was cheating on him with a professor. She got kicked out, and he got fired. Personally, at first I thought Valentines day was forced American dribble. If I knew what would happen to me, I would have had a reason to gag too, but now I would give anything to have a picnic, or even just spend time with you. Haven't I given up enough?
18/5/2011
I met with Derek today. All the help he tried to give me was hard to swallow. My obsession over you is “unrealistic” and “I'm only hurting myself”. Has he never been in love? The emptiness that is his ring finger must echo the hollow cavity that is his heart, for how else can he lecture me on the troubles of loving someone that will never love me back, and not even flinch?
I tried to persuade to him how much I really do love you, explaining that you give me purpose, in a normally purposeless world, and that I would be nothing, figuratively and literally, without you. Derek's hand returned to the crevice that he created in his forehead, just from face palming too much. I know he is just trying to help, and I tell him that I really do want to get better, and move on, it's just too hard.
It's just that he isn't writing the story here, I am, or so I think.
23/5/2011
My...associate... Fellow inhabitant of this living establishment, Jane told me that there was positively no chance for a walk today, that it was raining too much. Jane is full of rubbish though, and I never quite liked her. She makes a grand plot of things, when there is very little happening.
Plus, I do enjoy the rain. Walking through the tacky, Victorian styled courtyard of our complex, the rain drenches my clothing. Though this makes the walk harder, there's something about the struggle that's invigorating. Each step through the downpour, I fight the self-inflicted burden which has encapsulated me. Looking up into the clouds, and I can almost see your face... That is if I knew what you looked like. Despite not knowing anything about what you look like, and knowing that I never will, I can't help but be infatuated with you. Whenever you look at me, you look for the deeper meaning. You read my subtext, and despite my obvious flaws, you see the true me. What more can one ask for?
Well, besides for my life to not be in shambles. That would be nice too.
Also, for Derek to stop giving me pills that don't work. Derek is a real cunt like that.
16/6/2011
Kai came to visit me today. We were at an awkward sitting, standing situation, Kai not able to shuffle towards my bed, where I sat, unwilling to look up.
“You look … well...” mumbled Kai, both of staring down at the ground, hoping to catch a glimpse of each other’s eyes in the reflection of the moldy, linoleum floor. It's dirty enough where I couldn't be sure, but clean enough to pretend.
Another millennium passes between words. There's plenty to talk about, beyond the general small talk of weather and lies, but the intensity grows heavier, locking in the unspoken. After finally gathering the courage to tell Kai about you, for some resolution in our respective lives, a goodbye is said, and I'm alone. Very underwhelming.
On my desk, there's a letter. It's from Kai. I refuse to read it, because I know what it says. Oh, I've found someone else, you should do the same, even though it's been years since we've been together. I guess no one can surmise my situation. I would feel pity myself too. In fact, I do, because my love for you is impossible. Impossible to act on, but not to believe in. That's all I can really do. This hole that I've dug myself into, fills with rain and despair. I'm not sure which one will drown me first. As much as I want to get out, and move on with my life, you are keeping my head above water, but nothing else.
I put the letter in the trash, because I never want to confirm what I already know.
14/2/2012
It's been a while since my last entry. I thought I threw this story out, after it made me feel worse and worse about myself. Plus I gave up on any hope of you reciprocating my feelings towards you.
Derek told me a couple of decades or minutes ago that I should get transferred to a more serious psych ward, one with electroshock therapy. The medications he's been giving me over the past year have not been doing anything for me, and that this may be my only hope in getting better. I may be crazy in love, but any opportunity to feel better must be taken. I asked him for a few days or eons to prepare.
Final anythings are tough. Final exams final goodbyes, final chapters... It's the last part in an event that will help determine what happens to you, them, or whoever is involved. In my case, this is the last thing you will get of me, before we part ways forever. My last chance to say how I truly feel about you, the reader. You will read this, and make your judgments. Do my ramblings impress you, or just turn you away? Am I a superbly round character in my fictional life, or just a throwaway? Whatever you may think about me in the end, remember that I will always love you. The beautiful way that you turn my pages, ever curious to what happens next to me. Each line you read pierces down into me like arrows from Cupid's bow. Your coordinated attack leaves me mumbling like an idiot, defeated. Whether they are Cupid's arrows , forever connecting our love, or Artemis striking down my God-like desires, is left to be determined.
Everyone may think I'm crazy, but I know how I feel. And I can't stand to feel this way anymore. The fact that we can never be together hurts more than anything, more than my unintentionally plagiarized novel, which started the spiral that got me here. More than Kai leaving me, without even telling me why.
I found love in the wrong place. You may even love me back, like so many fictional characters before me, wishing I was real. You may love me, even though you don't know my name.
Or maybe you will think I'm full of shit.
I am real, I'm not crazy, just simply a fictional character. That doesn't change the very real things you feel about me... but we can never be together, so I gave this story to Derek, and he reluctantly agreed to hand it off to you. For what good does that do? I don't know, but I think it's better to have my story told, however bad, than not told at all. Unfortunately, again my life revolves around clichés, but as they say, it's better to love and lost, than not love at all, or so they say, and so I say.
I'm not crazy, I promise. I'm just in love, but I can't love you anymore.
