Tout est question de sémiose, petit Arlequin.

Vendredi 29 novembre 2013 à 0:26


Dear Terry, 

This is a farewell letter.
You don't love me anymore and I'm not sure I can handle it any longer.
I miss those proud eyes always pleasantly surprised, full of love which could show a way to become myself. I used to feel beautiful and attractive, and even sexy. I used to feel seducing and loved. Now I don't really know anymore. I'm a shadow. I miss this crazy sex which made us close, this mutual tenderness full of attention and care. I feel loved as much as a friend. I get asleep alone, your computer on your legs has taken over me long time ago. My body's cold, my hope as well. I don't want to be a window, a couple display which isn't true, something we pretend to be, a beautiful mask on a grim and sad face. And all the stress you create, I can't stand it anymore. Keeping control is destroying me. 
And you'll never be father again. What about OUR family? Is it too late or my life already wasted? Another I'll-have-a-kid-one-day crisis. Not with you.

I want the passion back, hand held, and heart beating strongly, breaking our chest. If it isn't possible, I'll just leave you alone, move out. That sounds like our end I'm afraid. I'm already upset about it. I need your help, I need you to save us. Maybe not, you've got enough money to leave alone now. Never thank me for that.

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