[scrawled on a piece of paper, in sloppy Russian cursive]
Dear Mila,
I have been such a fool. I am tired, listless, I feel betrayed not only by him, but by myself. I can't trust myself. Who am I to blame anyone but myself? Responsibility, duty, honour, you know I hold these concepts closer than any other. Who am I to set them aside for anything?
I let myself be overwhelmed, like some fool. Like the village idiot, I danced to a pipe only I could hear. It was all a lie.
I know you must be laughing at me now, just like I am sure he does. The man he loves. The little whelp. The boy forever caught in the shadow of his father. We all are, none of us more than what our fathers made us. I suppose, in the end, that is exactly what mattered. He must think I am pathetic. He knows, and you should see the frustration on his face, hear it in his voice when I won't spell things out for him.
How could I speak clearly? I am a disgrace; worthless in the eyes of society, should anyone find out. Should anyone find proof...
He said he would ruin me, if he had any leverage. Why, then, should I give him just that?
I have nothing to offer, while he can give him everything. He has status, power, assets, a name known all over the world. I have a studio apartment. I have a bed.
I used to be a power. I held the respect of my fellow men and the fear of my enemies. The world was my oyster, and I could do no wrong. And now, I am nothing but an old man who should have known better.
I am a fool, and now I am paying the price. I love him still... But I trust him no longer. I thought I could, but I was wrong. There is nothing I wouldn't do for him, but I can't trust him again. I suppose that is a worthy punishment for a lecherous old man.
He said I gave him pieces of his soul. And still, I am not good enough. Perhaps it makes sense that he should be the one to end this madness, this disease of the heart.
He's young. Can I blame him for that? Can I blame either of them for stabbing me in the back? Can I blame him for making me feel invincible, enabled, empowered... Can I blame him for making me want what he wanted of me? No. He's young. He's too young, and I'm too old and it wasn't right of me to take anything from him. I shouldn't have let him so close.
If I had any sense left, I would terminate him. It's what you do with your greatest liability, you get rid of it, make it disappear, but I can't.
Don't tell me I have a heart, Mila. Don't presume to tell me I am only human, and that it is natural, any of it.
I hate you. Not as much as I hate him. Love him too much. Too much, Mila. Please make it stop. Make it stop...
I have been such a fool. I am tired, listless, I feel betrayed not only by him, but by myself. I can't trust myself. Who am I to blame anyone but myself? Responsibility, duty, honour, you know I hold these concepts closer than any other. Who am I to set them aside for anything?
I let myself be overwhelmed, like some fool. Like the village idiot, I danced to a pipe only I could hear. It was all a lie.
I know you must be laughing at me now, just like I am sure he does. The man he loves. The little whelp. The boy forever caught in the shadow of his father. We all are, none of us more than what our fathers made us. I suppose, in the end, that is exactly what mattered. He must think I am pathetic. He knows, and you should see the frustration on his face, hear it in his voice when I won't spell things out for him.
How could I speak clearly? I am a disgrace; worthless in the eyes of society, should anyone find out. Should anyone find proof...
He said he would ruin me, if he had any leverage. Why, then, should I give him just that?
I have nothing to offer, while he can give him everything. He has status, power, assets, a name known all over the world. I have a studio apartment. I have a bed.
I used to be a power. I held the respect of my fellow men and the fear of my enemies. The world was my oyster, and I could do no wrong. And now, I am nothing but an old man who should have known better.
I am a fool, and now I am paying the price. I love him still... But I trust him no longer. I thought I could, but I was wrong. There is nothing I wouldn't do for him, but I can't trust him again. I suppose that is a worthy punishment for a lecherous old man.
He said I gave him pieces of his soul. And still, I am not good enough. Perhaps it makes sense that he should be the one to end this madness, this disease of the heart.
He's young. Can I blame him for that? Can I blame either of them for stabbing me in the back? Can I blame him for making me feel invincible, enabled, empowered... Can I blame him for making me want what he wanted of me? No. He's young. He's too young, and I'm too old and it wasn't right of me to take anything from him. I shouldn't have let him so close.
If I had any sense left, I would terminate him. It's what you do with your greatest liability, you get rid of it, make it disappear, but I can't.
Don't tell me I have a heart, Mila. Don't presume to tell me I am only human, and that it is natural, any of it.
I hate you. Not as much as I hate him. Love him too much. Too much, Mila. Please make it stop. Make it stop...