𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕃𝕖𝕘𝕖𝕟𝕕 𝕠𝕗 ℤ𝕖𝕝𝕕𝕒 𝕆𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕥𝕤

Writer || Dark Link

They say, 'oh to be loved by a writer, you are immortal."

As a writer I have never heard of something more devoid of romantic meaning in my life. 'Oh, to be loved by a writer,' is to be the center of countless poems, sonnets, and soliloquies. It is to find your entire being enraptured in piles upon piles of parchment drivel.

I think being a writer is a curse that few are truly able to bare.

As a writer, I can reread my old works and see your touch and influence flooding the pages as if you were the one writing it.

I can see your eyes as touch the page. I can hear your laugh as I read it. I can smell your scent as I envision the words.

I think the worst part about my old works is the fact I can see when I fell out of love with you. I can see where the love poems slowly turned into those of anxiety to mourning and finally to quiet melancholy of losing the love of my life.

I wrote the most depressing and heartbreaking pieces of my entire life, and the masses believed it to be some great love story dedicated to my one and only. They were truly just denial pieces as I tried to hold onto our relationship with white knuckles and a sallow face.

The greatest loves of all time are over now.

I was the glue in our relationship, and, at a time, the glue loses its stick and stops working.

But goddesses, if my wishes came true, it would have been you.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

I was many things. One of those things being Zelda's little sister. I had the title with no crown and was often overlooked by the masses.

I suppose that was a good thing.

It allowed me to live a little more freely than the ever-graceful golden child. It allowed me to fall in love with a simple prince from a neighboring kingdom. Or perhaps that was our downfall the entire time?

It was cool, cruel nights like this that made me think of my knight in shining armor coming to my window like he always did. It's too bad that he'd never do it ever again.

I would never be able to feel his silky locks underneath my fingertips nor would I be able to feel his forehead against mind as we cuddled.

I can still see in my mind all those times when we slept in my bed as his eyes looked to mine in the mysterious moonlit night. I can still hear his voice sometimes as I close my eyes wishing I knew what it was that I could have done to have stopped us from breaking up.

Although I guess I have to thank you, I wouldn't be who I am without your influence. I wouldn't have written over a thousand works that are beloved all over Hyrule if it hadn't been for what you put me through.

It's because of you that I know la mort de l'auteur is true.

I wrote the most gruesome things about us and our relationship, yet they will always be held as the most romantic works of my generation. I see them read at weddings as their vows yet when I wrote them, I was so desperately begging you to stay.

I think always kind of knew that you'd break my heart. It was so obvious. With every interaction, I felt less and less secure with you. With every word, I felt myself hanging on a single arachnid's string. With every touch, I felt you were mystical thing—something I'd lose once I opened my eyes.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

I hate your guts, I hate your face, I hate your name
I'll scream it all the same until we're both marble wasting away
But still, my heart is yours. Rolling in its grave wishing to be saved

For you, I'd burn any bridge
Forgo all logic and principle close to my heart
You know I hold dear the winged wonders
But I'd birth a thousand stony deaths to them for you

Did you know that I loved you?

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

I didn't want to heal because the pain was my last link to what I lost. It was the last link that proved that we happened. It was the last link that he loved me at a time.

I didn't care that he was using me the entire time. I just so desperately wanted it to be him.

Remember how I'd throw myself off very tall something's just to see if you'd come running? You didn't.

Remember how I lost my mind over yu despite you never giving me a second thought?

Remember how I actually did burn all my bridges for you, and you couldn't even be bothered to tell me you already extinguished our fire?

Remember how I let other abusive people into my life because their abuse reminded me of you.

Do you remember how you used to look at me? Do you remember when you told me that you liked your last name on me more than my own?

I guess that all along he fit so perfectly into the love story I'd imagined for myself that I mistook him for the love of my life. And, I bore my soul to someone who couldn't even show me his truths.