The Sickest Love

            Nothing can ever measure up to our love. People dream of something special like ours. It is beyond these clinic walls. The moment I met you I knew we were meant to be one. We bonded over the love of art, spirituality, and the belief that we were not of this simple world. My most joyous memories were with you.

            You always gave me a state of euphoria. The taste of your aged mouth, the look in your wise eyes, and your strong bodily presence complete my very existence. The ignorant people couldn't comprehend us. They thought of you as a man who only knew dreams and could never establish real achievement. I was the foolish girl who knew nothing about reality.

            To me, you were a maestro. A maestro who was sadly giving in to his demons. But I would be your student absorbing all your knowledge. As my mind flourished so would our love.

            I love you.

            I also hate you.

            You have to be the most egotistical person in the world. Nobody was beyond yourself. No job, family, God or my own needs was treasured before yours. You took advantage of my vulnerability, instability, and desperation for your love as an outlet for your shortcomings.

            Remember when we both entered that painting contest? It was a national contest. You wanted to win to prove to your colleges and America that you were a brilliant artist. A genius. Some kind of Da Vinci prophet. To you, you deserved all the fame, glory and the cash prize of $15,000. I wanted to win to finally prove to you that I was good enough for you. I wasn't a poor naïve big-eyed girl, but a woman capable of great intelligence and talent. Maybe then you could finally appreciate me as a equal. But I was wrong.

            I won the contest. I won the praise, recognition, and prize money, but you couldn't handle

it. In the aftermath, you starved me, beat me, cursed me, and told that I was the most senseless animal ever and a complete traitor. You spent all of my crash prize to create your own name in the art world. Trying to fund for your own insecurities and desperate need for attention.

            But through all of that, I still loved you. I still tried to prove that I was worthy of your love. You were my teacher. Idol. Master.

            Even with all that being said, I still hate you. Because you did the most selfish thing imaginable, you took your own life. You destroyed the only thing that connected you and I in this world, life. You left me here alone to rot.

            At night, I call your name wanting you to come back. So loud that nurses bang on the door, some even laugh. I've been warned that if I don't stop now, I'll have to experience shock therapy, causing me to lose memories of you.

            But I can't. I can't think, sleep, feel or even live without you. I wish I was that rope that was around your neck. Clinging on as I took every air out of your body. I want to lie dead right next to you.

            Everyday is a nightmare. The staff and the other patients wanders mindlessly through these dead hollow halls. How dare they live? Only you and I have the right to live. They are dirtying our pure beautiful world. The only way this nightmare can end is if I join you in our own abyss.

            But until then, I have to stay on this putrid earth longing for our reconciliation. Goodnight, my love. Goodnight, my dream. Goodnight, my universe.