I Want To Kill You (In A Romantic Sense)
Honey, you know that I think you're the light of my life. How could you possibly not? I lovingly tell you so every day and every night, so deeply do I adore you. I'm sure you even noticed that I spelled out "I love you light of my life" in the Alphabits that I prepared for you this morning. True, you didn't eat them, because you don't like Alphabits -- I knew that, because I love you. Luckily, my words don't belong inside your intestinal tract. They belong in a cereal bowl, where the whole world can see them.
Such intense love can not merely be spelled out with a corn meal product, I'm sorry to say. I know you know this, too. I could tell by the flash of disappointment in your eyes when you asked me where your normal breakfast was. You, like I, long for a more meaningful gesture to signify our love. Something that surpasses even the two heart halves necklaces that I bought for us on our 37 day anniversary.
You don't have to worry any more, my love. That's because I'm going to kill you.
Has the idea set your heart aflutter yet? I'm sure you're now realizing that by taking your life in the most love-filled fashion possible (either by rat poison or sitting on your head for a while, I haven't decided which), we can join the pantheon of couples who were so committed to each other that one or both of them died. In this case, only one of us will be dying at this time. You, honey. You'll be dying.
Romeo and Juliet! Othello and Desdemona! Hamlet and...his mom, I guess! These Shakespearian couples all have one thing in common: they all loved, and they all died. That's all the convincing I need to know that I need to kill you immediately, while my love is still strong. Who knows what my love will be like tomorrow? Tomorrow, I may only love you enough to recite you a sweet sonnet or two while I softly brush your hair. I would hate to see you live to see our love regress to such a state.
I know what you're thinking, my sweet: "But I'll be so lonely in the afterlife without you!" I admit, the thought had crossed my mind. Fortunately, I expect that I will most likely take my own life at some point after you are gone, so grief-stricken will I be. Of course, you wouldn't fault me if I failed, and only sustained minor injuries, which in turn would cause me to fear attempting to kill myself again, and so in desperation I'd run into the arms of a long-time female admirer who currently keeps her distance because of our relationship. I'm sure that wouldn't happen, sweetheart, and even if it did, you wouldn't know, because you'd be dead, because I killed you because I love you so much.
When you think about it, it really makes sense for me to be killing you, honey, and not the other way around. I have always been the piner, and you the pinee, the recipient of my affections and adoration. You have never concealed yourself within the closet and then jumped out at me while I was changing to give me the best love of all: surprise love. Nor have you made an improvised song out of tapping on the counter with a glass jar about how if I am the glass jar, your love is what fills it to the top, the top, the top *tap tap tap*. These are things that I have done for you, remember? It only makes sense that I would try to top myself by committing loveicide.
In a time when divorce rates are climbing and people seem to be struggling, it warms my heart that I can be in a relationship so stable and secure that one of us can die as a symbol of our love. I'm talking about you, honey. All you have to do now is accept my loving gesture, and not call the police like on Valentine's Day.
