From Perseus to Andromeda

I HATE ANDROMEDA!!! Yet she doesn’t even realize how I envy her. She just loves me so much, that if she knew I have this kind of hatred toward her, she would be crushed to pieces.

All that she knew is that I’m her beloved, the only one that she has, and no one could replace me. Her world is so me-centered. I actually have the same thought. To me, she’s the only one, and she’s totally irreplaceable. Yet her presence and existence bother me so much. It irritates me and become really annoying that it left me nothing but two choices: to kill her or kill myself. And no matter what I’d choose, it’d suffer us both. Although if she ever knew my intention, I know she’d voluntarily sacrifice herself. If not letting me kill her, she’d runaway, somewhere far-far away, and as long as I don’t want her to be near me, she’d never made any contact with me. And this would make her suffer. And to imagine how much this would hurt her, it hurts me too.

Why did you give her to me just like you give me to her, eh? Is it a kind of scenario to you? A kind of dramatic story to be put in your novel—a.k.a. the book of life; or a kind of movie that you wanna watch, using us, ur creation as the actor and actress? And now I can imagine you’re sitting on a comfy couch eating pop corn, while watching us suffer—well, watching ME suffer, to be exact, for Andromeda doesn’t even know, or ever think of this, I believe. She’s just too childish for this. Her thought is too simple for such complicated things inside me.

I know I can never leave her alone. I love her too much, as much as I owe her my life. I shouldn’t revenge on something she never even did.

Or perhaps it’s the evil inside me that’s screaming to be let out of me. Oh, wait. I’m the evil. Yes, I’m the evil itself. That explains the cruel feeling inside me. That’s the only explanation isn’t it?

So, what should I do? Should I just give you up, Andromeda? Or could you ever give up on me?

Right now, I wish that I’d ended up somewhere far away, amnesia, not remembering you, or even myself. Then I wouldn’t thought that I was an evil, right? And life should be much easier by then.

Or I wish I’m a wizard, then I could transfigurate your mind, so you wouldn’t remember anything about me, you’d just think of all the beautiful things that could make you happy, instead.

Andromeda, to you, life is nothing but a playground park. It’s a fantasy land full of bitterness, and yet you never think negatively. You’re trying to be tough with your positive thoughts. While me, on the other hand, try to live this life bitterly. For it not, I wouldn’t be able to survive. The only way for me to survive this tough life is by driving myself crazy. I don’t think I would stay for long anyway.

Andromeda, I wish you’d leave this life earlier than me, for I can’t stand the thought of you losing me. I’m the only one you have. You put so many—too many hopes in me. And I can’t imagine what would be of you if I quit this life earlier. No. I know I’d be alright, even when everyone has gone, back to their home. I know, no matter what happen, I can still be OK—or I can try, no matter how, even when I’m the only person left in this earth. But not you. And I don’t want you experience that thing too.

We’re just too different. But that difference is the one that put us together. If you wanna blame, or even praise the one who create this brilliant plot for us, you can praise the creator. He’s in charge of all this.

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