If I Must, Then...
For a considerable while--since Mlle Daae ended her engagement with the Viscount, I think--my typist has been pushing me to say this. See... *pause*
*is prodded by typist*
All right, all right. *nervous cough* What I mean is, she pointed out all the 'success stories' that have taken places regarding relationships since the birth of this 'illustrious' community and how happy these events have made the participants... eventually. She urged me to look around at all the other posts regarding the matter of relationships that have occured in the community and in the journals of its memebers. At first, I didn't really know what she was getting at, but I read a conversation between... M. Prouvaire and M. Courfeyrac, I believe, concerning the nature of love.
It hit me then, curiously enough, that my typist was quite unsubtley telling me to, as she said later, 'Get the hell over stupid, effing Dorian!' Not only that I should, but that I could, something that I guess I hadn't even considered before.
So, as hard as it was for me to come to this decision, and as difficult as it is for me to say this, Dorian... I'm going to take her advice. I can see that no hope lies with you, and I would like to eventually attain some form of happiness. I forgive you for my death, I hope we can remain on decent terms, but I can no longer dedicate myself to you like a... (Typist: Lovesick puppy?) ...That.
Anyway... I think that's it. *takes a deep breath*
(Typist: That wasn't so hard, right?)
*ignores* I am going to go lie down now.
*is prodded by typist*
All right, all right. *nervous cough* What I mean is, she pointed out all the 'success stories' that have taken places regarding relationships since the birth of this 'illustrious' community and how happy these events have made the participants... eventually. She urged me to look around at all the other posts regarding the matter of relationships that have occured in the community and in the journals of its memebers. At first, I didn't really know what she was getting at, but I read a conversation between... M. Prouvaire and M. Courfeyrac, I believe, concerning the nature of love.
It hit me then, curiously enough, that my typist was quite unsubtley telling me to, as she said later, 'Get the hell over stupid, effing Dorian!' Not only that I should, but that I could, something that I guess I hadn't even considered before.
So, as hard as it was for me to come to this decision, and as difficult as it is for me to say this, Dorian... I'm going to take her advice. I can see that no hope lies with you, and I would like to eventually attain some form of happiness. I forgive you for my death, I hope we can remain on decent terms, but I can no longer dedicate myself to you like a... (Typist: Lovesick puppy?) ...That.
Anyway... I think that's it. *takes a deep breath*
(Typist: That wasn't so hard, right?)
*ignores* I am going to go lie down now.