Why did she feel so warm – even when I hold a gun towards her she shows me love. How? How when someone has a gun to your head can you be so forgiving? I bet you that I could shoot her and she’d still say I’m a good man. She is infuriating, isn’t it obvious that I’m going to hurt her, which I don’t care about her. But that’s just part of it – me trying to hurt her seems to just make her think I’m weaker, why? Why does she think that I am so weak? What makes me weak, are my arms not strong? Are my eyes not violent? Are my actions not powerful? I am this, I am strong. She doesn’t understand me, she’ll never understand why it takes so much effort to be the way that I am, it takes work, it takes effort. It’s hard to be me. It isn’t that easy, I promise you that. She cries, why does she cry when I am so strong, doesn’t she see that I’m powerful now? Don’t cry for me, cry for yourself, fear my power, or join my power – either way I am not weak, I am not good, but I am great.
How you pain my dear friend, how infuriating you are that you make me cry! I’m crying for you, and your lost soul, did I take you all those years ago? You’re in my heart still, but you’re not here in front of me anymore. I need to share my heart with you – to show you that you are still alive. You act as though you are already dead, when I know that there is a part of you that still lives. My tears will bring you to life, swallow them into your eyes and maybe then I’ll revive you from this dead like state that you call power. Don’t even try to pretend, because I can see you. You are not great, but I can see good. Good in your love and your arms. The gun you hold is a symbol of your weakness and a weak will. You have no will, to live any longer – you have given up on life and chosen violence. You do not need violence, my dear friend – to be powerful. All you need is the love of your heart, and you will dominate the world.