You want a tragic ending. You want to die in
desperation, by suicide, or homicide, or in,
perhaps, your lover's arms. You are the
weeping poet, the dark dreamer, the romantic.
You find beauty in what most consider ugly
and unforgiving. But with your eyes clear of
clouds and cecity, you see it: the story
behind every teardrop, the value of every
wilting flower, the sublimity of every death.
You know that death is a part of life, and
you know how to make it beautiful. That, in
itself, will make you Eternal.
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