John Ivory

Cried myself to sleep again last night. Been nearly a month now without Bungo. I had a dream we were again united, it was the greatest I've ever felt. I wanted it to last forever. Someone had other plans, though. My dream quickly turned to nightmare, and Bungo was torn away. I can't think of him any longer, because it brings me too much grief.

Maybe I just shouldn't wake up. Death calls for me like a siren. I fear death, but I have begun to think that even the burning depths of Hell are more preferable to this barren coldness I feel without Bungo.

I cannot help but wonder, when I sit up on my bed, staring across the room at the crucifix, why God has torn Bungo from me. Why has God forsaken me?

Judgement soon.