I prefer a depressing monologue:
A May day
It was May, I had just received the delightful news of my beloved's state. So much time I had waited for such information, so many tear-filled nights of my comfort on my ever-stained pillow. Such pain.
I had travelled, so far away, so I could study in a school of such prestige as was unheard of -- such silent praise. I left my love home, where we lived with our distant families of no ill will towards each other. Indeed, Space had always been our enemy as surely as Time would pass to be a curse and allow such sorrow. For, put together, both can be sheer torture for the soul.
I had left my beloved, yes, and left to study and grow for the both of us. Yes, we both went ahead and decided to learn as much as we could of as much as was possible. Such love binds us... The letter was the latest news of my star's life, whose life is tied to my sanity and my immortality.
Such a gentle May day, such delight from the Summer heat, such comfort. Indeed, the world knows of our love and approves of it. Nature, so sweet, consents it. Nature is always there, is it not? Always there to soothe the spirit, always present to embrace you, to destroy your fears. Yes, Space and Time oppresses Nature, too, and so we're siblings in pain. We're family, all of us...
As I opened the letter, tears danced down my cheek, they uplifted my mood, like a scale, less of one results in the relative addition of the other. Such fragrances escaped my letter, such joy left unspoken, unwritten.
Suddenly, aghast, I beheld that it was not written in my beloved's hand! Frantically, I tore it open. Tragedy!, death!, these words jumped out of the pages to stab my heart!
Unwittingly, my window became my doom, and my actions my beloved's drive to cry. Yes, not dead, weeping, for merely in paper was written: "With you in tragedy, for you in death."
-------------------------
The person below me is now depressed.