Concieved Counterpart

I see the darkness that shields your lies. Your pain. All those memories playing, over and over again in your head, driving you insane. I can still picture you despising every second of life I was ever given. Wanting to take it all away, make it disperse with the mist; to blind you, so everything loses its meaning.
Existence, it has no reason. Nothing needs a meaning, but you still want to justify my presence. 
Your hate. Leave it alone. 
No, don’t: unleash it, let your fury rage against my vulnerability. I have no defense, since your hate is nothing but a twinkle in insignificance’s eye. 
Still, I wait for you to regret it all.
But waiting seems too long. Impatience. I want you to get over with it. If you can imagine the blade piercing my flesh, go grab that knife now. Stop planning, surprise me instead. Let that surreal feeling invade your veins, and that selfish smell of vengeance inflate your lungs.
The mist will get thicker, and you will lose control. I can see your smile ripping through the dark night sky, as I shriek, destabilizing the silence.
You’ll miss me, you know you will. But missing me won’t mean I’ll lack in you, you’ll be filled with memories of me. From the first moment I opened my eyes till now, my very last breath. And they’ll play over and over again, till you’re insane.
But this, you already are.
Now you grab hold of that knife, soaked in my blood, and carve it right through your heart. 
Now, you no longer are insane.
Now, you aren’t at all.