Disenchanted

The End of the Begining

Marza, be glad you never saw the candles and the dripping wax. Be glad you never saw the crime scene or the weapon of choice. Be glad you left before you saw shit hit the fan. Be glad you never saw the bruises on Kit. Be glad you never saw Elena's skeleton and be glad you never saw the angry red gashes on their arms.

We've all done things we're not proud of Marza. Kits bruises have healed and Elena found her body and they may have pale skin again, but it doesn't make them any better. Recovery doesn't erase the past.

Sometimes I write. I write to you Marza. And sometimes I read what I'd written and find that the words weren't mine. My own words aren't mine. And I don't know how I want to say what I want to say. It's all falling apart and I can't glue back the pieces. It's all falling apart and you leaving seems to be the only explanation. It's where this all started.

Sometimes I look back at myself. I look at who I was. And sometimes I can't recognize myself either. I don't remember how it felt. I can't remember who I was Marza and I don't know who I am anymore.

I figured it all started with you. After you left it fell apart. Everyone fell apart. Marza you're where it started, and where I'm going to end it. I've got too many old CDs of old memories to throw away, and Marza, you're one of them.

You're where this all ends.