Why am I here? I don't really even like people despite what I do. Does human nature compel me to say something? I feel like I'm not even in control when I write these posts. No, not that way. I know what I am writing, I see it clearly, think it clearly. But the drive to why I am even posting in the first place is still a mystery to me. Why am I talking to you, whoever you are. It's silly really... I feel mad for stepping out of being invisible rather than feeling glad to have found some people whom I have come to bond with. I keep thinking I'm so screwed up, and you know what? Maybe I am. Maybe? Probably. Hell, I can't really even judge it anymore. I just don't care. The cage is open, that's probably what is rushing in all these different thoughts and second guesses. I was never one to feel compelled to reach out to others. Hell, when they reached out to me I sort of took a step back to stare at them until something of interest popped up.
Why am I writing this? Who am I writing this to? Who am I writing this for? What am I doing here?
I keep trying to figure out these answers but they lead me nowhere. It's just like trying to remember. End up with nothing. What is in my head? What the hell is in my head? NOTHING!
Quiet down. You're not mad. Not yet.
Well, at least I solved part of the equation during my few days away. I'm not feeling so cold, it's fading. I was dreaming and she came. It's kind of funny actually... I stood up when I saw her coming over. She looked so bright as always, innocent. And you know what she did? She slapped me across the face. I looked at her and she did it again. Harder. But it didn't hurt. Those sorts of things have lost a lot of their feeling over the years. To me, knocking my shin or something doesn't faze me. It's more of an inconvenience. I just sort of ducked my head as she swatted at me, muttering incoherent things. My name among them.
I don't even care that she was shaking me, I really don't even care. I could feel her. This little thing that I have not seen in the flesh for years. Within my dreams she's never this close. Distant, a painful reminder of the truth. I couldn't help but crack a grin, she looked as amusing as she did back then when she was getting all huffy. And fuck... Her eyes still knew how to stop my heart.
"What do you want?"
The words just fell into place, this was just a dream. Remember that. Regard it as such. Adapt.
"To tell you something."
When didn't she. That was always such a popular line of hers.
"What do you want to tell me?"
"Something you need to hear."
"I need to hear or want to hear?"
Figures. I let her place her hands on my shoulders, ignoring the pain in the left. She shifted herself until we were eye level, her warmth vibrated off her form as she leaned down a bit to make her message clear. I encouraged her with just a mutter to tell me what it was but she didn't. Her hand weaved into her hair and pushed it back out of her face. The blazing gaze of hers met mine. Her blue orbs, the color of the center of a flame collided with my ever changing ones. I bet they stopped for her, though. I always imagined they did when our eyes locked.
Enough. Enough of this.
I could see the happiness and sadness all at once within her smile.
"I am not your missing piece."
It felt as if Hell had finally frozen over. I didn't bother to cover my shock as I looked her straight in the face.
"What do you mean--"
"I was never your missing piece. I am just a representation of it."
My hands formed into fists as a building fury burned through my veins. I see what this is. What it was. It just figures I couldn't keep my silence. I started to vibrate, my body shaking lightly as I stared hard at her.
"You wear her face like a goddamn evening dress."
"It is necessary to get the point across. If I hadn't--"
"Take it off."
"Will you listen if--"
"Take it off!"
I screamed at her, tearing myself away in the process. My fingers curled, flexing open and closed as I glared at her from two feet away. She obliged me, the disguise fading as what stood before me was none other than my own reflection. Or close to it. The self-projected image of myself that was always within my head. She opened her arms as if presenting herself to me and I just scoffed.
"She does represent a part of your missing equation. But it is not she that is the piece, it what she stands for. What she has always been to you."
I stepped off to the side and she pursued until we were idly just walking around circling one another.
"She taught me love."
"But she is not love."
"She was always Light and I was always Dark. To everyone. Between us."
"But she is not the light that shines down on your equation."
"How did she make you feel?"
"Vulnerable. Weak. Disgusting."
"Cared for. Relaxed. Valued."
"Safe. As if I could trust her."
"The single human being that pulled you from the jaws of madness. She gave you her trust, her heart, her soul. She gave you everything, EVERYTHING! And what did you do? WHAT DID YOU DO?!"
"What did you lose when she left?"
"What does she represent?"
"What is one of the pieces missing from your equation?"
"What will you do?"
"WHAT WILL YOU DO?"
"WHAT MUST YOU DO?"
"WHAT NEEDS TO BE DONE?"
"I need to... Trust again."
"What will you do?"
"What must you do?"
"Learn to trust again."
"What needs to be done?"
"I need to trust again."
"Who are you?"
"Someone one step closer to solving herself."
One step closer.
One step closer.
One step closer.
Thanks, beautiful. Even halfway across the world and clueless of this all you're still helping me. You're still helping me help myself.
Are these attachments pathetic? Why am I here? Who am I talking to? Are you out there? Do you know it is me? I doubt it. You never did like scary stuff, even when you followed me around on Halloween. Heh. No. I may second guess this all, over analyze it. These bonds... You know. I finally am not just understanding that quote,
"Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art... It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things that gives value to survival." - C.S. Lewis
but I am feeling its meaning.
Trust, it's going to be hard to repair you but it's nice to have you back in the boat. Hopefully you'll make yourself useful, I'd hate to tie you up and throw you overboard to drag behind the boat as we continue forward.
Fuck. Too mushy. Too sentimental. I don't know how this shit keeps happening. I'm just hopping from my left foot to my right rereading this damn thing... I do not like. Romance is fine, but I don't like tangoing it 99% of the time. Nope. Nadda. Hell no. We're done here. She's done here. Thanks a bunch, doll, I can move forward. I'm going to go back to running away from the mush now, ok? Ok. Bye!
No. Seriously, though. Her chapter has finally been closed. Sleep tight fond memory, you'll be safe within the tower. Let me fight these dragons down below. Heh.
Onto the next step I (we) go!