"But i thought you said that you loved me?!"
"I do love you."
"But I have loved hundreds of people, male and female alike; romantically, the females and brotherly, the males."
"Are you mad sir?!"
"Perhaps. I tend to love the hundreds of females who have left my prescence, some of which are dead; I, for some reason, tend to love the dead ones more than the living ones."
"For they are more alive than the living ones themselves."
"Why is that sir?"
"It is because the hundreds of living women that i have loved prefer to choose and live with those who treat them as if they were dead. And so, just as they choose the living who treat them as the dead, I treat the dead women i have loved as if they were living. Because in me, they have 'never' died."
"So sir, are you a player?"
"Ah yes, I am a player of many games, but i do not own the pieces among the board, i am simply another attendee, like you and everyone else. The only difference between I and you, is that I play my part one at a time, with one piece at a time. Even the pieces who has been knocked off of the board, i pay tribute to."
"But sir, I...I dont get it. Why not only take one maiden for yourself?"
"Well, that, that is because the one maiden that would have gotten me through the entire game in one stroke, is no longer on the board; is no longer in existence."
"I, I see sir.....Forgive my arrogant form of insolence."
"Do not worry, young man, you too will collect as many pieces as you can along the way in this life, or you will be a dying life-form like myself. But as for me, as I have already said, I have loved hundreds of women, most of which have either left me or are no longer living; i have loved so many because i am simply full of a complex form of love, and because all that i go into contact with somehow always seem to fade away or die."
"So you do love me?!"
"Yes, of course i love you."
The man stopped looking into the mirror, and stopped speaking as if he were two different personalities.
Finally he broke the mirror with a single swipe of his fist, and the shards began to fall, fall into his arms, slicing them deeply.
"What am I, What have I become?!"
he cried.
And voice from the broken mirror came forth saying," you are a man who has loved much and who has lost much, and now you lose the very thing that you could only hope to cling to by breaking me; your identity!"
"No, nay, there never was an identity, i am merely another being covered in human skin, and that is the truth. And those people i loved, even myself."
he continued," Ive lost them all, i am always left by those that i love, and the ones who remain are killed somehow; every single time."
"It is because 'I' am like shakespeare, a man who loved many, a man who lost many. Except, that man is a fairytale, and I.....'I', I am the real thing."
And as his blood dripped so vibrantly and quickly, as though a flowing river had just hit the dead end of jagged rocks, gushing off of them, he ripped one of the shards that was in his arm, from the broken mirror, and carved his own heart out.
And he died that day, but no, even as he was alive, he was always dying. So it was better that he died; that he died, so that he could finally "live."
