My dearest Christine
You had at one point been my Christine, and I was the Angel of Music to you, weren’t I? You too had been my Angel of Music, and I loved you as my Christine and my Angel. Because of you, my Don Juan I pushed aside in favor of making music for you:
I would write only for you, in return for the art you made me, I would talk to only you and forsake everything else, because you were my world. I wrote so many stories and short stories for you and you alone. I forsook even my close sister friend’s company, my Daroga, for you. I was the happiest person on Earth for a while.
All those times when I stayed up till ridiculous times talking to you, those moments when I would smile stupidly when you send me something, be it a link or a picture you drew for me… I could never forget those times. But now they are gone, gone because of a person that I can never forgive… I know I told you I meant to forgive them and I still held on to this hatred.
But could you blame me? I was the shoulder you cried on, the ear that listened when you needed, the one that worried about you when I am not seeing you, the one that wished they could loop a Punjab Lasso around the throats of those that hurt you… and yet, and yet you chose to believe HER over me, the one that listened and lost their appetite over what happened to you.
I gave you my music…
You told me I made you so happy but I changed for the worst, you screamed at me and told me to go burn in hell, you called me a liar when I’ve tried my best to be true to you. It ripped my heart into shreds, but I could never hate you because you were my Angel of Music, my Christine. So I backed off and gave you to Raoul, because it pains me to see you unhappy, it pains me to see you in pain… even though I did not want to let go at first because my heart and soul burned with hatred for the mouth that made this rift.
I became Erik, I was your Phantom even though I loved to believe I was your Raoul. That I acknowledge because I was wrong in being so overwhelming.
Now that a month has nearly passed without your presence, and I’ve learned to change, to hold back my temper instead of striking. I thought I would never get over you, but now YOU changed. You became paranoid, you took the music I gave you and made it your own without thinking that I was the one that gave you this music. It hurts me to think, to know you have forgotten me as the one that gave you this.
I do not know where I stand now, because I do not want to hate you, I really don’t. But now I dread of you talking to me, because your sweet lips now tear my flesh with every new message you send, and yet I have no will to fight those messages for you were my Christine.