letters to a dead girl

my golden tragedy

dear horcrux experiment number 4,

i've always been fond of greek mythology. the destructive demise of everyone "good" has always drawn my attention— maybe that's what drew me to you.

you always reminded me of the greek tragedies. the world watched your story— a girl of pure gold who took in the world through a rose colored hue that would soon darken to a bloody red as she lost sight. you were doomed from the start; the moment we met your end was inevitable.

the greek tragedies— no, the precognitions of your life are devastatingly delightful. the tale of icarus believing that he can fly, only to fall to his doom like your dreams of a future. the tale of midas and his ability serves as a symbol of the doom waiting for you the moment you wished for my company.

Death seemed to always follow the greeks. He was always hanging around the corner, haunting and hunting and waiting to strike. like Death, i was watching you like prey. hiding from Him, i used you to avoid His greedy hands. my helpful icarus. my golden midas.

you always reminded me of shakespearean women. written in just to die, a side character in an extended sonnet. i copied shakespeare—took his written idea and placed it upon you till you crumbled down, down, down (forever icarus).

you remind me of so much. the saddest of classical music, the number of floors till my flat, the blood that stains my hands.

don't think yourself too special, you're not the only one.

maybe i should read up on tragedies and plays written by horribly gruesome people (though who am i to talk?) i wonder what they say about pretty dead girls who want to leave their grave.

i forgot to ask, would you mind if i brought you a friend?

your play write,
tom riddle