Man In Love - Age 56

I thought I could never love anyone ever again after Karla died in that car crash. The stupid drunk driver never saw me coming after that happened. He was about to speed off after the hit, but before he could, I had punched through the window and knocked out a couple of the guys teeth. Those were the good old days, when I could still make a man cry. But that was 25 years ago and now I am sitting in Le Me Rouse with the prettiest woman I ever thought possible. I am not the type to care about that though. I am over the days when a girl only got a second glance if she had a figure. What I really love is that she gets the thought of Karla out of my head when I am with her. Sure if there is 3 ice cubes in the cup, I immediately think of how that was her favorite number, or if we pass a guy wearing a Polo shirt I remember how she loved when I wore those. But when I look up into Elizabeth's eyes, it all melts away, and when she touches me, I fall in love all over again. I do wish that Karla was still alive, but these past few months have been the happiest I've had in years.

Edgar Allan Poe's Journal

Authors Note: This is Edgar Allan Poe's journal from when his wife was dying of tuberculosis. Most of it is real but some of it is made up.

May 16, 1836

Virginia and I got married today. We decided on a fine man to marry us, Amasa Converse is his name. Both a reverend, and the editor of the Southern Religious Telegraph, we considered him the perfect choice. He met us at the Yarrington Boardinghouse for a small wedding- Family and friends only. I would write more, but Virginia is calling me, I don't blame her though. After all, we just declared one another's love.

January 10, 1842

Although I am going through a rough time, I always find peace in my beautiful wife Virginia. Just today I had a terrible time working on my newest article for Alexander's Weekly. I just couldn't get a good thought going. She comforted me, gave me ideas, and told me I would get it right. I liked that. It was nice. Hardly anybody treated me like that anymore.

January 20, 1842

My dear Virginia is coming down with Tuberculosis, the same dreaded disease that killed my brother, and both my mother and foster mother, is now burdened upon my beautiful wife. It happened so suddenly too. I was watching her play the piano while singing, and all of a sudden she coughed. It wasn't a normal cough though. There was blood that splashed out of her mouth when she did. This just might be the worst day of my entire life.

January 30, 1847

I lied. Today is the worst day of my life. Virginia died today. After battling the disease for over 5 years, Tuberculosis finally put her to sleep. It drove me mad, watching her go before my eyes like that. I am telling you now that I can hardly write for I am so sad. I did nothing the time she was sick unless it had anything to do with her. I stayed by her side and comforted her until death, for I would not and could not do anything else. I am depressed, I am heartbroken, and I am lonely.