I love you.

I -love- you.

You are extraordinary; beautiful, brilliant, -good-.

You feel so natural to me, so fitting, so sensible.

Live your life with me! Let me live mine with you.

But though you are this to me, you tell me that I am not a man you could
ever want to share your life with, you could ever love.

A friend.

From you who knows me better than any other, how unbelievably that
hurts...how completely inadequate it makes me feel! Each facet of my
being I share with you becomes yet another inadequacy, yet another
failure to mean to you what you mean to me.

And so, my dearest, my closest friend, I say to you that I am slowly
dying...and to save myself,

I say good-bye.

Penned by my hand on the 2nd of Juliary, in the year 189 CE.