fucked.

I have snared the unicorn, finally and am overwhelmed by it's delicate beauty. Am I truly the one to soil this great beast? Has the rainbow shattered and fallen down in glinting pieces around me, my eyes too intent on the gleaming white coat to see them land?
I have always brought desctruction down upon my prey but I am hesitant this time. I am getting tired and feel older than ever, wearing grey hairs and battle scars like tick marks marking time's lonely passage. I am trudging slowly through this knee deep sludge of expectation and exceptions, waiting ever patiently for the end to finally come down in sweet relief.
But it never comes, it is always just bad enough but never the worst.
I have lived on like this for years, and I'm wondering now if I should sacrifice his purity to create a fresh start for myself. Should I give nothing up? Should I continue letting it all leak out in charming anecdotes, funny quips about ugly things, hints at the cool churning reality underneath?
The combination of your personaliy, you crazy fucked up girl, and his calm innocence may be the best combination I could have ever asked for. You two, in stark dichotomy, may save me. Or at least, I will have something interesting to write about up to the very end.