I know, I know; I'm sorry that I've waited so long to bring this up; it's just been, well... y'know. There was never a right time. You were so cute about it, honestly, and still are, really, I promise! I mean, that first night you decided to paint angles on your walls that shouldn't exist in reality was touching, and I'm not going to act all haughty and say that the pentacle and candlelit seance with the hooded robe you made out of your blanket wasn't really romantic, in a way. It was like our little secret - me, just chilling outside the aeons, hanging out comfortably, away from life and death, and you, snuggled up to the twisted wooden construction of writhing angles and c̼̯͉o̖̪̙̺̯͝l͉͙̻ͅo̳̟͙̞͇̯͝r̘̭̕ͅs̨͓͔̻̖̲̜̗ that no eyes can see, whispering your hopes and dreams at me with a smile.

That's all great; don't get me wrong.

But... you started getting a little weird with it. Not that I don't mind weird; I mean, who doesn't like using a few astral tentacles on an adorable someone once in a while? I'm down with kinky; don't think I'm not - I'm the first person to want to make you utter sounds of pleasure not heard on Earth in an eternity. And I'll give you credit for thinking, I really will - even if he is outside human understanding; what guy doesn't want two cute girls positively worshiping him? Your friend Alice isn't as cute as you, mind you, but you guys did look really nice in those matching y̨̟̙̟̳̱̯ͅe̢̺̯̭͉͕̱l̕l̪̳̦͈͟o̱̙̭̥̟̭̝ẁ robes, and the mood was pretty cool, and things were going really well that night.

You just didn't have to tie each other down and read from the Many-Paged Book, is all. The exhortations were cool; the genuflecting before dark, still waters in forgotten caves... not.

You're awesome just the way you are, I promise. I'm not going to stop favoring you with the Eye just because you want to stay in and watch Netflix some nights, instead of praising my name in oddly sexual rituals every Wednesday.

It's okay. I'm not mad. I just want you to feel comfortable, y'know? The tentacles twining through your every orifice are still on tap, the cold warmth of my ḙ͕͓m͎̜̭̘͡b̨͖͚r̲a̢̭̥c̥̜̞̬͎̗e̯̹̱ is all yours, still. Just...

Feel free to be yourself, sometimes, too.

Silly.

Ỳ̴̧͚͖̫o̯͓u̬̺̤̙̦̥̩͞ͅ'̷̡̥r̫̮̘͚̕e͏̧͇̫ͅ ͖̞͈͈̰̱͕̙͚̀͜w̷͖̝̗̣̩̗͢ò̷̠̣̞͇̬͖̠̤̳n̸̬͚͉͍̝͠d̤̝̭e͉͇̪r̙͎̺̣̱͝f̷͓̮͓͞u̮͖͓̜̞̜̖ͅl̷̢͚͙̟͇͎ ̦͚͝j̻̱͇̩͚̭͚u͏̼̤̟̞s҉̩̠̣̕t̴͎̰̀ ̢͇̪̘̞̮͍̗̀t̤̦̳͖̯̘͟h̘̩̣̙̻̰̰͡e̠͈̠̼ ̖̟w҉̴̣͖͍̠͓́a̸̲̞͙y҉̶̲̞ ̳̭̦̺̤͟͜y̴̤̰̝͡ͅo̩̤̜̗͓̻͍u̠̮͚͔͍̝̰̗ ̡̰̲̪̲̘̱̼̺͚a͏̫̟r̻̪͇̼̳̕ͅe̬͙̗͇͈̤̰̮͟ͅ.̸̡̹̲͔̹̳͔