If you could have dinner with anyone in history, who would it be?
My answer to this question seems rather ridiculous, considering the fact that I've always had quite an interest in the past. There are countless historical figures I could think of that I'd like to have a chance to speak with . . .
And at the moment, the person I've chosen is, well . . . yes. Ridiculous is certainly the word.
I would have dinner with a former . . . well, perhaps 'girlfriend' is too strong a word. I went through a rather dark period in my life last year, and during that time, I managed to get . . . romantically entangled with an enemy of mine. We were completely ill-suited for one another, and happened to loathe each other on top of that. And yet it went on for around a year. It certainly wasn't a healthy relationship, but ironically enough, it lasted far longer than any of my others have. The requited ones, anyhow.
We parted under rather dramatic circumstances, to say the least. She was murdered, and then . . . well, you see, at the time we thought that a vampire had done it. And naturally, there was therefore the possibility that he could have turned her. We couldn't take that chance. She had to be, well, destroyed.
I cut her head off with an ax.
Things have gotten significantly better since then. The darkness has more or less passed, and now I've reunited with my friends, I'm once again working for the greater good (I . . . think so, anyway. One can't be sure with Wolfram & Hart), and I've started seeing the loveliest woman in the world after years of merely dreaming about it.
And yet . . . I almost feel as though I can't be purely happy so long as I'm living with certain things that I've done. Doing that to Lilah this woman . . . treating her the way I did throughout the months we were together . . . at risk of sounding melodramatic (I fear I might already), it haunts me.
I'd like to apologize to her. Tell her I hope that she can find someone she deserves.
Of course, I suppose I could now. She's apparently back; I've run into her on more than one occasion around this place. And yet I know somehow that I'm never going to be able to bring myself to tell her I'm sorry.
And because of that, it seems that part of me will remain haunted.
And . . . ridiculous. Entirely ridiculous.
Let's start over, shall we?
If I could have dinner with anyone in history, it would be a good friend of mine, Cordelia Chase. She passed away recently, and I never got to say goodbye to her properly.
I'd like to say goodbye.
And at the moment, the person I've chosen is, well . . . yes. Ridiculous is certainly the word.
I would have dinner with a former . . . well, perhaps 'girlfriend' is too strong a word. I went through a rather dark period in my life last year, and during that time, I managed to get . . . romantically entangled with an enemy of mine. We were completely ill-suited for one another, and happened to loathe each other on top of that. And yet it went on for around a year. It certainly wasn't a healthy relationship, but ironically enough, it lasted far longer than any of my others have. The requited ones, anyhow.
We parted under rather dramatic circumstances, to say the least. She was murdered, and then . . . well, you see, at the time we thought that a vampire had done it. And naturally, there was therefore the possibility that he could have turned her. We couldn't take that chance. She had to be, well, destroyed.
I cut her head off with an ax.
Things have gotten significantly better since then. The darkness has more or less passed, and now I've reunited with my friends, I'm once again working for the greater good (I . . . think so, anyway. One can't be sure with Wolfram & Hart), and I've started seeing the loveliest woman in the world after years of merely dreaming about it.
And yet . . . I almost feel as though I can't be purely happy so long as I'm living with certain things that I've done. Doing that to Lilah this woman . . . treating her the way I did throughout the months we were together . . . at risk of sounding melodramatic (I fear I might already), it haunts me.
I'd like to apologize to her. Tell her I hope that she can find someone she deserves.
Of course, I suppose I could now. She's apparently back; I've run into her on more than one occasion around this place. And yet I know somehow that I'm never going to be able to bring myself to tell her I'm sorry.
And because of that, it seems that part of me will remain haunted.
And . . . ridiculous. Entirely ridiculous.
Let's start over, shall we?
If I could have dinner with anyone in history, it would be a good friend of mine, Cordelia Chase. She passed away recently, and I never got to say goodbye to her properly.
I'd like to say goodbye.