You have waited long enough. I think I was the painter, didn’t want the story to end. I suppose I knew (we always know) deep down, that this is going to break my heart. What we don’t know, in fear of pain of a broken heart, is that it’s going to change us. It’s going to make us stronger, better, filled with a new story. Once the story reaches its ending, the magic is released, into you. It washes over you, it lightens you up. This kind of magic is like fire, and it’s difficult to put your very soul on fire, knowingly.

It’s 4 am, I’m filled with the magic of thousand stories. I am magic itself.
I wish my words could’ve offered you what you really deserve. I’m sorry. I’m not that good of a writer yet.