He wants to read this. He wants to read all my entrys. He wants to be able to know more about me, cut a window into my heart that he can crawl through.�

Not that he knows he needs a window, or has even thought of it.�

But he does want to read you.�
And why not? Shouldn't he be able too? He probaly thinks I'm overly concious of his reading it because of the things I've written about him. He thinks that this diary is chock full of entrys talking about him, praising him, loving him. He thinks it would be nice to finaly get a touch of emotion from my lips. Not that he's told me these things. Just that I understand him quite well.�

But my goodness. This is not a beautiful thing, my diary. I speak of other men, happiness in their arms. And I speak of love, of loving the first of those men. And I speak of heartbreak, and pain, and sick obbsession. And family and friends and pain and sadness all over again.�

Mostly, I think, it's all love's drabble. My obbsession. My heartbreak. My hatred. But mostly my love for HIM. For AM.�
And wouldn't that just break L's heart?
He loves me. And I love him. And we love each other. But I still have babbled on and on and on about AM. And I've talked too about Lucas. But not happy talk. Cruel talk. Evil woman talk. My kind of talk.�

I tell him that he will read you, and then he won't love ms anymore. And he tells me that that's crap. He'll still love me.�

And I suposse that's true. He will still love me. It's possible he'll even still like me. There's the slimest chance that he'll still want me.�

But it'll destroy him. Shatter his perfectly ordered universe. He won't believe me when I whisper "I love you too." he won't listen to me sing, because he'll know my songs aren't about him. He won't trust me. But he'll love me. And that's the cincher. I'll destroy him from the outside in. I'll kill his spirit, his trust, his heart. In short, I'll make him like me. I'll do what was accidently done to me. Just with a touch of style. And I'll do it worse, do it spitefully. I can be evil. More evil than before. More evil than ever. More evil than any gril should ever be.�

And he says he wants it. Ha! I won't give it to him. I won't. Because it'll destroy us both. It'll destroy me to see him waste away.�

I ask, then, dear reader, that, for the reasons expressed, you don't give it to him eighter.�