Love and friendship are celebrated today. We observe what the heart is capable of feeling. We express affection without reservation. Chocolates given, cards made and purchased. I will participate in none of these activities. I have made too many errors, which have left me in solitude. The horror of silence.
Robert has written songs for an album, he hopes to record in full. As a matter of fact, a few have already been recorded. They have been posted online, for anyone who pleases to listen, and judge. This leaves me feeling uneasy, since they are about our relationship. Already, people comment on them. The reviews are positive. He chronicles our relationship through song, and people love it. As if they have any clue of the hell I had to go through, to inspire what is very clearly less music, than it is torture. They are not songs, they are the guillotine, with blade dull and rusted.
He has the ability to make use of what we have lived through, in a way that I do not. I continue to be affected, by what transpired. My hostile lover has moved on, with head held high, and a conviction that he is innocent. That I have injured mercilessly. That I am a tyrant.