iT's YoUR biRthDAy DArLin', We LovE you veRY veRy VeRy muCH

I wish i were you, for you find life worth living. Through your eyes, i feel a commonplace. A home. Somewhere, someone is waiting. Their eyes will lift to the clock as it strikes midnight and wait, wait for your shadow to appear. On the veranda, their eyes will cling to the light, hovering on the hope that a silhouettte will fall and they will rush to you. They are your reason, your ever fight for life. hmp. But i stand here, and look into your eyes. They brandish no fear that you will not meet them. There is a hatred for me. I see that burn with every second i hold you here. Because for every second after midnight that passes, a little more of her believes that you are dead. She believes she will never see your face or feel your kiss again. It is not my intention to make you late good sir. But i must know, what is it that makes this life worth all of your troubles. To fight with your hands, scraping death time and time again. Liberty? For what is good for the public? Surely you do not mean that this is motivation, good. Simply good? You do not fight for her. She wish it more that you not fight. Of course, if i were in love with a man as fierce, i would know better than to try and tame him. You cannot change. Your lust for life is greater than what one woman could ever satisfy. You should do well to remember that when you lay your hand upon her face and tell her there will never be another. I do not need to tell you that she will die protecting you. It is something you fear for great reason. She will perish. Do not try and stop the future. Hold her hand as she passes, but do not delude yourself that she will be your only. I promise you that.