Well, here it is; the final chapter. I know you've all been waiting, just as long as I have [why didn't he end it sooner?] to see how it turns out. I honestly wish I knew that myself. A lot has changed, myself, Bella, and even the world around us.
The worst kinds of dreams are the ones that you wish were your real life. The dreams that make you feel like eternal sleep would be better than this disgusting abomination called life.
But those are only some.
Other dreams make you fight to come back to reality. Nightmares.
I've yet to find the name for a dream that is both a nightmare, a wet dream, and the above dream--that you never want to wake up from. I'll just call it a Paradoxical Dream.
My life has become a Paradoxical Dream. A fuck up. A disaster that I'm addicted to. I made the same mistake; getting too attached to a figment of my own imagination. I'd rather just keep the two worlds separate, but my heart and my head never seem to agree.
So how does it turn out? I don't know.
I've woken up, to find myself twenty years old and an emotional wreck. It's like I had been gone for a while and let someone body-sit my body and now that I'm back I've seen they made a HUGE mess of things. But the way I would have liked it to have turned out would have been a happily ever after with Bella as my bride-to-be, even that thought cheers me up. A happily ever after with Bella as my loving and devoted wife, all those things would have been nice things to see.
But they never will, they will never even be anything close to that. The closest I'll ever get is a lifelong friend, which--trust me, is not something bad. I'd be lucky to have such an amazing friend my entire life, but when you want more it's hard to fight all the urges.
Am I partly to blame? The overactive imagination, boundless in my head and in my hands? I think I made that same fatal mistake; inventing a world, and all it's people, inside my head, who are better than anyone in real life. I told myself I wouldn't lower myself to their rancid, putrid level of self-indulgence, but I did. I did succumb to their level, slightly. More so than I should have.
I thought about giving in, completely letting go of all those things I hold so dear to myself. All those things, those moral I define myself by, but then it would no longer be my life I was living. I would have killed the only thing that makes me better than all those mongrels I surround myself with. I would become nothing more than dirt. But I still hold on, to myself, to my morals, and so it's not very bad.
I still say stupid things when I'm devoid of sleep, and it still makes Bella upset, and creates distances between myself and the ones I love. But what can you do? Things just happen, I guess.
I fear, now seeing the separation of my two worlds. That I will remain alone [in at last one aspect of the word] until the day I cease to exist. I can only hope the world behind my eye lids is a much warmer and caring place, where I don't have to alter myself to find companionship. Let's not make any sort of issues here, I mean companionship as more than a lobing friendship I hope to keep for years and years to come, with my most valued friend; Bella. I mean a mate, a girlfriend, a fuck buddy, a one night stand, a lover, a wife, and so on. Those are what I believe will be nothing more than a drug to me, something that controls me.
I don't want to leave you all [if these words are actually being read by anyone other than Bella herself] with a sour taste in your mouth with this last chapter.
I'm having a hard time expressing myself, even to you, Bella, on the current way I'm feeling. It, in no way, reflects my feelings towards you [unless when I say]. For the most part it's because of the heat, I think. The disgusting heat drives my patience and makes me cranky.
I've been really debating on moving to Alaska, to get away from the heat, forever. I fear this town, with it's brown dead skies and the dry flat heat, is slowly eating my soul. I think the air is killing me. It's a miracle I even have an imagination left from all the smog I breathe in. A hard rain needs to come, it needs to just keep raining until nothing is left in this fucking city. Like Robert De Niro talks about in "Taxi Driver".
When it comes to all of this writing; I love it, don't get me wrong, but I also love ramen--however if I eat ramen every day, I'll eventually being to hate it. That...my dearest friend, is my biggest fear.
And even still, it feels like I'm a pipe organ, but only one valve works. Where as months ago several did.
I don't want to break down, I want to take a break. But it feels like a relationship and I don't want to ruin it. I want to stay in constant contact with it.
"What, do I not kiss him when I see him? It would just be weird." She said. And I agree, not being able to write [even if it feels like it's aging me faster] is weird too. People become used to things.
People also don't like being forgotten. How can I take a break when you can't even go a week without reading? I finally have a consistent reader, why am I complaining? Maybe I'm just digging too deep, into myself. Maybe I need to take a different approach?
I want to be the first to apologize for this depressing and unfulfilled ending to an otherwise, mediocre story of how a man threw himself at a girl and almost got her. I just felt the truth was much less pathetic than an imaginary tale to keep me from feeling so alone in the middle of the night.
And so I think I should leave you all with a very funny joke, to lighten this depressing mood.
A couple were married for 20 years.
Every time they had sex the husband would insist the lights to be turned of.
The wife was getting bored of the same thing every time.
So that night when they were having sex the wife turned on the lights and saw her husband with a dildo in his hand.
The wife very annoyed by now, started shouting at her husband and asked him to explain himself.
The husband replied with "Explain our Kids."
I think that it's a very funny joke, and leaves me in a good mood.
And ps, if there should ever be more on this imaginary relationship with Bella Hernandez, best believe Customer Service 2:The Slower Downfall of Happiness will be coming out.
-Sir Jestro
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