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These Trembling Hands Must Be Stopped!!!!

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To an ex-lover (that's you by the way..)
We have reached the end, haven’t we? I wish you the best in the future although that is an empty sentiment I think. What does my opinion or how I feel come to bear on your future decisions. For that matter - just to rub salt in whatever small wound this departing may have caused - what influence did my opinions or feelings ever have in relation to your future plans? You had already made your mind up long before you had met me it seems and your plan was always to return home and re-unite with him.  It’s a shame that you chose to inform everyone else in your circle of friends before me, leaving me to play a guessing game and wind myself up in emotional knots about your imminent departure. As is my want, I blamed myself and thought that there must have been something I had done or something I was lacking in that had motivated your decision rather than apportioning any blame to the other party. I had put you on a pedestal when I tried with every fibre of my being not to. I told myself not to repeat the same mistakes. But the fire in my heart was too strong, overwhelming and I once more feel powerless to a lover’s callous whim, stumbling away from the aftermath like a little boy cast out of paradise, an outsider once more. But let’s not recriminate too much, there was love or affection there after all. It was was it was but I was just blind to see it for what it really was and I let my fragile ego and self-loathing govern my behaviour leading us to this. Miles apart. It’s too late. The lightness has gone. No easy give and take. Replaced by a air of tragedy, intensity and expectation, by the notion that our little drama means nothing both within the everyday and extraordinary. I showed my hand and was honest; after the fact yes, once you had go on the plane sure, but I did it. That was an immense risk for me. Years of acting like an adult and some of those years simply acting have made it easier to mask emotions but inside the fragility of that little boy remains. So what remains to be said? Thank you for allowing me to feel alive again and fuck you for striking me down into the earth once more. Perhaps there is no blame. Just two confused people making decisions or not making decisions, bad timing, things left unsaid, regrets, moments of intimacy lost to time, breathing, kissing, laughing, arguing as one. It was not meant to last. Nothing is. This is life right? Love? It never goes away, remains a mysteryhangs around, comes back again, maybe. But love is everywhere, romantic love is an illusion we just can’t live without. Goodbye once more, goodbye. Deluded fools, the damned lot of us.
Having said all that….who gives a monkeys, truly? Mein’s a bitter, a large bitter bitte!!
Yours truly,
The former Dr. Theronius Munkhausen, clinical physician of Freiburg Institute of Insanely Murderous Persons and wrongly convicted murderer of seventeen people between the years 1928 and 1948.
(It was my hands your honor...yes, my fakakta hands possessed by the spirit of an executed murderer, that did them awful things...no, not the things I did to my ex-lover but the murders, the murders your honour!)

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