If I wake up now, would I still be dreaming? I am real and you are not. I am real and you are not.
The blackhole that the windows are consumed by, the night seeping in quietly, lately it's been crying and aching like an over-barred child. When I understand my own purpose, Je te laisserai des mots. One sun bleached evening, je te laisserai des mots. When the sun may come crashing into the earth and everything around burns, I will be real and you will not, because I am real and you are not. If all that is around me is cast to only be a figment of your imagination, are you real and am I not? You are real and I am not. Because even if I do leave you those notes, what will be the purpose, if none other than to frame yourself as the victim. If my story shall only be told to shun myself, will the notes mean anything in the end? If I leave the notes will I be real and may the day come where I am nothing more than a mere part of someone’s second hand tale then so be it. If my purpose is only to paint you as the main character, you as the hero, I am happy. Because that is what you deserve.
You deserve the sunlight streaking over and spilling from curtains. You should have the world and more set to be placed at your fingertips. Je te laisserai des mots, on what the meaning of me is. I’ll leave perfectly calligraphed notes, signed and addressed to you. Because the day you receive the notes is when my squeal story is over. When you lose me to add to your tragic main character development story. And the night will close, the cicadas will play their closing act, as the sun rises, the moon seeps from the room, and I am to be set free. Gone. EVen then I will have been happy to be a part of your story. Apart from the well written drama, that just so happens to be your life.
Je t'aime, ma chérie, mon monde, ma vie.