The inherent homoeroticism of killing your enemy and immediately regretting it
It’s about rage, it’s about obsession, it’s about making that two-person war your entire raison d’être. It’s about loving and mistaking it for hatred and loving and loving and loving to the point of destruction. His or yours, it doesn’t matter. And you think seeing him dead at your feet will make you feel better, but all you feel is a whole lot of nothing.
