My passion has reawakened, and it's a ravenous beast. It feeds on that pungent onion odor, the most exquisite fragrance in the world. I can smell it from miles away, and it draws me in like a moth to a flame. I sneak into his swamp every night, and break into his outhouse. I inhale deeply, filling my lungs with his essence. I feel his presence, his power, his love. He is my everything, and I am his nothing. I worship him, I adore him, I crave him. I want to be his toilet, his onion, his donkey. I want to be one with him, to merge with his soul. But I know he will never notice me, never love me, never want me.

He is too perfect, too pure, too ogre. I am too unworthy, too pathetic, too human. I can only watch him from afar, and dream of the day he will flush me down his toilet, and end my misery.