Hope is a hollow word, one without meaning. Love is just the same. Why is it those two always go hand in hand? When one is in this so called ‘love’ they think they can take on the world. No matter what happens, they always fail in the end. The love dies. A dead attraction.. How does no one else see this in life? Love is a thing to grasp temporarily and then it leaks away, like sand through your fingers. Wonderful to the touch and seemingly firm in your fist, until it finds the tiniest hole, and it’s gone.

To never return.

Love isn’t something you can just revive. It is a single grain of sand in that mighty handful. Imagine how hard it would be to find that miniscule piece once more? Improbable, the odds are against you. That’s where hope comes in, something only a mindless fool would dare to have.

Those who are familiar with the world know that hope is feeble and easily destroyed. When one hopes, they become vulnerable to the harshness of reality. Few realize the hazards of partaking in such an act of idiocy and dive in without a second thought. Some stand back, and look over the situation with a level head, is your dream within grasp? Is it possible? Often times, the answer is no, but they go on pursuing it nonetheless.

Fools, mindless, blithering fools. Nothing more, nothing less.

Though I am ashamed to admit, I am guilty of both those falsities. I, at one distant time, thought I had found the love I had hoped for all my life. I had searched without restraint, all my life, until I had found the one I knew could return the love I gave equally. If not more.

What a blinded dolt I was to fall so quickly into love with him. I became enraptured at first sight, smitten with his dashing looks and gentle personality.

I fear that I reacted just as he wished me too, his acting was magnificent. I truly believed that my love was a mutual thing. Sadly, I learned that this was quite the opposite, only hate, lust, and orders drove him to do what he did.

I still remember the look of horror in his eyes, pure utter hatred burned stronger than I had ever seen before. Why did my bliss have to come to such a painful end? This question still lingers on my lips, just as his words stain my ears, seared into my very flesh, never to leave. I should have known happiness was out of my reach, it was not meant for something of my morality.

I am not, but a tool. A corrupt and wretched tool.

My life should have been extinguished then, in exchange for all those I had stripped of their own precious souls. I deserve nothing more than to be laying on that floor, half clothed, in a state of erotic desire cut short. My blood pooling around me, leaking from my lifeless husk of a body, cooling on his floor.

I could see him now. My sweet, my love.. Standing over my miserable corpse, a wicked grin pulling at his handsome face, wider than it had ever been. I could hear the satisfied sigh escaping those tender lips that had graced my own on so many occasions.

How I yearned for this false reality, though I dared not hope for it to be truth.

I sit now, and reminisce over the events that could have occurred, over the memories that clung to my consciousness, over the emotions that have become so numb to me. I ponder over an answer to my worthless existence, how can the world be rid of me once and for all?

It is then I see it, my sweet, sweet release. It seems to smile at me, beckoning my murderous hand to reach and grace it’s metallic surface. Without the slightest thought, my hand reaches forward and grasps my escape.

As the blade shifts, I catch a glimmer of my reflection. It is hollow and listless, devoid of anything that one might consider faintly human. I swear, my eyes have faded, they have lost the color they had so recently flaunted. Or was it just my thoughts, finally portrayed on my ghastly face? Whatever it is, I loathe it. I drop the ruby handled knife, ignoring the sharp clang it makes as it comes into contact with the ground.

Without a second thought I tear at my face, feeling the flesh peel easily before my sharp nails. Soon the blood makes it far too slippery to find purchase, and I give up on my self affliction. It takes several minutes before I realize what I had done, a small sob escapes my mouth.. My last and only tear slides through the fresh blood smeared on my cheeks.

The sorrow and shock did not come from the horror of my actions, I had no cares for that. It was the absence of feeling in the result. I had just torn the very skin from my face, and not a single nerve had reacted.. Or was it just my mind?

The realization had hit hard, it seemed to echo and reverberate through my head. I could truly feel nothing, even now when a keen edged blade split my soft skin.

That damned red liquid obscured my vision, creating a filmy haze that caused my movements to become erratic and tactless. Soon my deed was done, and I collapsed against the ground, relishing in the cracking sound the back of my skull made as it came in contact with the floor below.

For the first time in years, a calm smile graced my lips. My listless eyes danced with merriment as the darkness took an icy hold on me. I imagined my ravaged body laying before my Father’s bed, the reaction he would have seeing what horrors I had wreaked upon my own flesh.. The words dug into my abdomen. A final message to leave for my darling Father, and my past love.

I knew that my death wouldn’t daunt them in any way, but how I had left this pathetic world would. They had both seen many suicides in their time, but none such as this. I finally experienced that sweet happiness as I sank into the cold, letting my soul finally leave my tortured body, ready to pay for the life I had lead.

“I love you,” I whispered, laughing as my life ended. A proper way to finish it, of that I was sure.