"She just lied there, with her eyes wide open staring through me. Past me, away into somewhere else. Never directly into my eyes. Being in love with her was a beautiful thing at times, but at others, I didn't know what to think. She barely ever looked me in the eye, only on occasion. I wanted to understand why. I wish she could have just communicated with me, told me exactly what was wrong. Instead she was silent, never objecting, never blinking, barely ever saying a word. She was everything to me. It's funny, when you're with someone for that long, you begin to wonder why they even chose you in the first place. It began to feel like she was unknowable. Senseless avoidance, aprehension. There was never a reason. Until I read what she had been writing. Cordelia rejected the existance of the truth, in every single possible sense. All along, there was a story within her that influenced every decision she would make, and every decision she would make in turn influenced the story.

I wish she would have just let me look at her more. I wish she let me be more for her. I hesitate to look for a new partner because I believe, deep down, she was my other half. If it wasn't cut so short, I would have done anything to fix what was broken. I would have taken her to a doctor, gotten her real, genuine psychological treatment. I would have taken her wherever she wanted to go. I like to imagine how perfect things could have been if I had read the book before she died. I would have taken it out of her hands and read it to her so she could hear how ridiculous and painful her thoughts were. I would tell her how it all made me feel. She would start to cry, asking for my forgiveness, unable to see my face through her perfect crystal tears. I'd tell her that I've already made the appointments, that I'm never going to let her go, and that I'm going to do everything I possibly can to help her be happy at last. I'd hold her, kissing the tears off of her face, whispering hopeful affimations. She would finally look me in the eyes, directly. It's torture to remember her voice. She's slowly turning into an abstract painting of herself in my mind. I'd much rather her be a statue made out of pure marble. I want her to last forever."

"She was so funny looking. Her bug eyes, how her short black hair would curl around her ears, her laugh. Perfect, unknowing girl."

-Milo Williams, rotten dead director and fraud. Shame on you. Bastard.