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I felt loved to such an extent that a curse in my body would start turning me into a tree because of how loved I am around you, because of how I love you. I will be the one who will bear the burden of hiding my curse from you because my misery combats the curse, and I cherish you so much that the anxiety of you finding out such a fatal secret will keep me alive. I would bear the burden of having to erase your memories each time and time again because the tree will try to kill me, knowing that I will always find peace in finally letting the secret go.
You would be appalled at the reveal of my secret after each loss of your memories; you will look upon me with anguish and betrayal. Then you will look at me with warm eyes and a loving smile and forgive me; every time, no matter which rendition you are, you would forgive me, you ridiculous fool, you, my beloved who would stop at nothing to forgive my bitter attempts to keep this from you, you who would swear to find a way out, a way for us to have the life we want. And I will scorn you for doing so. I will spit in your face in your putrid forgiveness; I will laugh, I will cry as the roots reach me and you, desperate for your embrace, and then I am forced to erase your memory once more, knowing that no matter how much love I have, and how much love you have, I could never be given peace lest I die a futile death.
I will spend the rest of my days stuck on the line of death’s mercy and life’s misery while I watch your every move; how you seeing right through me might finally be the death of me. I will live never experiencing happiness; I will live just an arm’s reach from your warmth. I will live engrossed in the thoughts of what kind of life we could have lived; how many apprentices would we have? What would waking up in the same bed, in your arms, have felt? How about the kisses we would have shared or the mundane mornings and starry nights?
The feeling of our hands entwined together, our footsteps in the wet sand as the sea’s waves come crashing at our feet, the sound of your laughter how it kills me each time to hear it. How it saves me each time I linger in it.
Abandon me if you could, snarl at my feet and strike my soul, shoot my heart and aim true, but stop being so kind to me. Your kindness is nothing but a sharp sword that hacks my mind, my skin, my soul, yet this sword that cuts me down protects all that I am.
You will wonder why I would do such a thing to you when it was you who proposed the solution in the first place. You who chose to put yourself through each erasure of your memory of my secret each time because it would keep me alive. After all, you promised me that we would be partners in pain together — You, left in the dark, and I, forced to erase every wonderful, loving version of you — how cruel of me and how kind of you, you who yet remain the kindest, most radiant star in the sky.
When you have finished reading this, do not find me, my love; I do not wish to be found anymore. Spare yourself the pain and leave me.
— With all my bittersweetness and unsaid words, your love, Agott Arklaum.