From: Hiljean83@aol.com
Date: Tue, 13 Jul 1999 15:16:25 EDT
Subject: Confession (1 of 1)

Title: Confession
Author: Kurt
E-Mail address: Hiljean83@aol.com (This is Pennyroyal Tea's address, but 
she's posting for a friend)
Distribution: Xemplary, everywhere else let me know
Spoilers: not really
Rating: PG-13
Classifications: V, A
Summary: Scully's being a bitch and feels bad about it
Disclaimer: Chris Carter is the genius behind the characters. I, however, am 
the genius behind this story. So there. 


Out of everything else, life is the most temporary. So is most anything, 
living nor non-living. Except for embarrassing moments. Well, actually, I 
lied. I believe that even though it is considered a beautiful, great event,
falling in love is most temporary. Relationships are short, as is life. Love 
is fleeting. It comes and goes in such a way that it can make you and break 
you in one week or a lifetime. I suppose that is why I feel so generic at 
times. I'm very traditional, very romantic. When I look into someone's e
yes, 
I want to feel their fire bouncing off of mine; I want to be able to sense 
their heartbeat and put it into sync with mine. Perhaps this sounds over 
exaggerated. Melodramatic. Not scientific. Yet as I live and breathe, it's 
what I want. Over the past six years, I have desired it more than ever. It
's 
been right here at my fingertips, and still I have denied myself of it. Ther
e 
is nothing I can say for myself, except that every time I fall in love with 
him I feel like I am giving up part of my individualism. In a sense, I 
suppose I am. Giving my heart to anyone has never been easy, and even though 
I desperately wish to do it now?I find I cannot. I do not mean to sound 
slight, or even aloof, when he flirts with me. I have managed to return him 
when he does, a select number of times?however, when he does make small 
advances, I find I close myself off. I know it hurts him. He does not think
I 
see it, but when he's let down because I've shut him out, his eyes harde
n to 
avoid tears and he sighs deeply, often. His jaw is set and his fingers becom
e 
shaky and fumbling. It has only reached such a point lately, because lately
I 
have been cold towards him and dissected every theory he has formulated. I 
have ripped apart those theories heartlessly and given him ultimatums that 
have really put more stress upon him than he has ever known. I know I am 
hurting him badly. He is sitting over at his desk now, chin buried in his 
chest, playing with an unsharpened pencil. He is pouting profusely. If he is 
trying to make me feel bad, it's working. He does not know I feel as guilt
y 
and hurt as he does. 

The End