I ain't even playing my own game.

I'm a murderer.
Who did you murder?

Him and me.

And yes, he was my obscure "You".

I'll never forgive myself for giving into the cliche and writing about "You" and I'll never forgive Nelson for giving me the idea to do so.

But mostly I'll never forgive myself for killing him and me.

No one will ever understand why I did it. But I guess that's the case will all murders.

It has nothing to do with the other hims and everything to do with me.

It has nothing to do with my love going away, because that's not how love works. It doesn't die. Love is the only eternal thing, ever. That's why people forget that Romeo and Juliet is supposed to be a tragedy. Because sadness isn't eternal, but love is. And no matter the shallowness of your love, you'll always remember it.

But I had to do it, so I did.

Don't say you're sorry, because I knew it would hurt.

I knew it would hurt to kill him and me, me and him, but I did it anyway.

Now he is gone and we are dead, but in all the wrong ways.

Now I can bite my fingernails, because I'm not growing them out for him anymore. So I do, so short my fingers bleed. I can stop eating, because he's not around to worry about me anymore. So I do, and my food goes in the trash when no one is looking. I can kiss someone, because I don't have to be there for him. But I don't.

I still don't know why that is.

Maybe it's because I'm still in mourning over the death of us.

Does a murderer normally mourn the death of her victims?

Probably not.

Guess I'm just not a typical killer.