Where to begin.
So much to be said that can not be said, to you, to anyone.
I have thought the spaces could suffice; time, its offhand revelations, filling the blanks I couldn't, or you wouldn't let me.
I say this knowing you couldn't have stopped me, had I wanted that, or anything.
That's what scares you most, this admission. I have watched you rewrite history, playing me every inch the villainess, so that you might be forgiven, by your victim.
Don't you know we women are not fooled? Though we may bide our time and serve it cold: revenge, not love, sustains us.
In other words, I too held that grudge.
Your sins, unconfessed, earn no absolution.
Lucky, lucky, foolish child... Do you know all the ways I could have broken you? Even now? Your freedom is a sham. You are a slave to ego, a baby whining, feed me, feed me now.
We both know- no one can come close. None has or ever will approach the feast you made of me. I fed you like a mother of Christ, nursed you into a god.
That was my calling, as I thought. Savior of the lost. A model of infinite compassion, unconditional acceptance.
It was the vampire I loved most. The flesh unwarmed by human touch, the outcast rage- damned, and doomed, to death for life.
Your need so massive it eclipsed my own. I did not share your hunger, but how could I notice? It followed me, everywhere I went, like a shadow. I did not think to escape it- what harm can a shadow do?
So it went.
You are neither the first, nor the last, nor the best.
And yet you endure, with a strength others might be expected to envy.
Created: May 25, 2012_vRai Document Media