SWAN SONG; tom riddle

𝖝𝖛𝖎𝖎𝖎

florizel,

my dearest, what have you done to yourself?

        i am unable to fathom the depth of your insolence for entrusting me with your heart and soul but i will say this:

        you are a fool.

you may frolic and prance around the inevitable truth as you so please, my love. you may blame me as much as you want. but in the end it was you — florizel jesper vale — who was at fault.

it was foolish of you to infer that you could love me and make it out alive.

perhaps if you hadn't become a liability, perhaps if your ardor was short-lived you could've lived on with your pathetic little heart. eventually you may have found a suitor who could ignore the filthy nature of what you are — were.

but no.

precautions must be taken, my love, you must understand. no matter the obstacle, regardless of how tempting you may be, i will let nothing hinder my journey.

because nothing on this plane and the next will deter me from the future that will await me.

i suppose this could've unfolded differently but the outcome would nevertheless be the same.

it would undoubtedly end with you dead by my hand. because even if my life had nothing in its future, even if i died tomorrow, i'd commit the most heinous of acts to ensure that no creature on this earth could harbor anything but resentment towards me, and i them.

         curse me if you so please, damn my soul and whisper my sins to whomever may listen. i certainly deserve it. but i do not regret what i've done. wherever you may end up, it is certain that there is no place for you here among the living.

for your weak friendships, your memory will consist of an insufficient thought here and there in the delinquents cigarette daydreams. you will be lazily mentioned while their deteriorating brains inhale the sweet nicotine blackening their lungs as it blackened our hearts.

but i say this without charm or any intention of romancing you: you're presence has not escaped me yet.

in a way, you've bested me.

just as you promised, your soul has left mine with sleepless nights and tortured days. if nothing else, take comfort in the certainty that you plague my every waking moment.

unfortunately that is where you will forever remain. almost pitiful how not a single soul could be bothered to remember the girl who loved to easily.

yours, even in posthumous life,
tom