I used to love you, you know.

I have nothing but silence, boredom, trepidation, and regret.

I can’t offer you anything.

I can’t offer myself anything.

All that is left…

All that is left is nothing.

I can give you that.

Nothing.

Void.

Emptiness.

A black hole.

And you will be left alone.

With your tears.

Not on me, but on yourself.

You will be left alone.

With your fears.

You never wondered why you are afraid.

From what?

Eventual punishment?

Obscurity?

Darkness?

Blackness of the heart?

A ghostly shadow for a soul?

You don’t exist.

You will never be found.

I used to love you, you know.