These days I only write when I can hear you telling me to. Finding balance between my different parts has been getting easier of late, but I haven't forgotten you completely. It would be stupid to forget that you were here because you always are. Maybe one day I won't have to worry about you and your need to control my mind. Your grasp, although gnarled and icy is familiar.
You are the only person who won't leave me alone I suppose. You are here with me, reclining on a couch, wearing my face with black eyeliner thick as I wore it senior year. I imagine your black uniform, sweater and pants hanging loose around your thinned body. Your arms are spindly, your face expressionless. You are frozen with numbness, but if I dare make any contact I know you will snap me in half. You know how to push my buttons, and cave me in. This gaunt she-devil knows my every insecurity and picks up on the minute triggers that sometimes surface through my daily interactions with the world around me.
I've tried to send you away but you seem adamant regarding your residency here. I suppose it would be rude to kick you out. You have spent a lot of time in my head. I can't just evict you like a stranger when I know the outline of your skeleton so well and I have helped you put makeup on your face and held you as you scratched and scratched your skin trying to break free of it.
I have led you to other rooms in my mind's mansion. You never blink and it unnerves me. You only speak to criticize or scream or to threaten me. You are filled with hate, and a part of me feeds off of that hatred and takes masochistic pleasure in entertaining you. Perhaps I don't want you to go away at all. Perhaps I am simply trying on the façade of pushing you away to keep up a beautiful delusion. Do you think I need you to stay with me? Oh. I need so many things and you're the only one who has never really left I suppose. Maybe that's why I let you stay. You never blink. You are so reliable. You are the concealer, the liar, envy, self-loathing, wickedness, hatred, anger, bloodthirsty and morbid. I know who you are and I know that you will stay if I let you. Unlike most other things, the simple act of letting you sit here is assurance that you will stay.
It's getting colder and colder and I am trying to stay warm without your sweet sister. She lures me in with her pretentious smile and her ignorance of reality. You two work together quite well despite the outward appearance that you are polar opposites. Unlike you, she wears skintight black dresses that make the boys look twice and she takes pleasure in consuming their attention just for a second; she can pretend that their looks hold great significance and in being wanted for a minute, she will stop feeling empty. Her laugh is contagious, easily provoked and can sound organic if she wants it to. You stare at her, jealous of her mad energy and her impulsiveness. In a way, you envy her, but another part of you wants to hold her head under water until her sick naive smile is wiped off her face. But she's just as bad as you are, don't worry. She doesn't believe in her happiness at all, and all her energy and need to take risks is just a disguise for the part of you she sees within her.
Sit there. I know it's cold. I know it's cold. Don't be scared of being warm though. It's okay not to feel pain. I need you to reconcile yourself with the women in the other rooms. I'm sitting here ready to make peace with the two of you. I know you want to kill me, your bout of silence isn't fooling anyone. And you are sort of stopping my mind. Well really it's going too fast. And I want to slow it down by kissing and kissing and forgetting and forgetting but it still won't stop. Can you at least blink. Let me know you aren't dead. Save me. That's what you're good at. SAVE. ME.
Let me hold your frail hand for a minute. Let me talk to you for a minute. Tell me how to be safe again. Maybe I will join you. Imagine us just holding hands again, and we can wear matching faces and matching eyeliner and match match match forever. And it doesn't matter if I'm never free of you right? Because if we only have each other we only have to worry about hurting each other. And no one else.
And I won't need to feel my heart turn to cement the more men it touches. Because I am scared of men and you are scared of men, we can unite against this common enemy and maybe we won't be so terrified anymore because we won't care about them. You can remind me of their evil and I will tell you how to be normal to protect you from them. I will teach you how to keep your little demon heart locked up. Or maybe you will teach me.
I don't know if I want to let you in though. You are so sad, I want to show you how to be happy. But I see that fixated look and I worry maybe you will never know happiness. And I see the way you look at boys, eyes darting around, like you are terrified to make eye contact with them for fear that you will share too much. Keep still. Please blink. Let me know you are not dead. I think I need you. Or you need me. My bed must be warmed on Saturday, and there's no point running to the wrong boy just to convince the both of us that I don't care. Stay with me. Help me punch out these ramblings with quick moving spindles. And then I'll sleep with your head cradled in my arms and I'll touch your gold leaf skin and trace the outline of your big brown eyes. And I'll let you stay just for the night, only to lock you up tomorrow in exchange for some real comfort.
You are the only person who won't leave me alone I suppose. You are here with me, reclining on a couch, wearing my face with black eyeliner thick as I wore it senior year. I imagine your black uniform, sweater and pants hanging loose around your thinned body. Your arms are spindly, your face expressionless. You are frozen with numbness, but if I dare make any contact I know you will snap me in half. You know how to push my buttons, and cave me in. This gaunt she-devil knows my every insecurity and picks up on the minute triggers that sometimes surface through my daily interactions with the world around me.
I've tried to send you away but you seem adamant regarding your residency here. I suppose it would be rude to kick you out. You have spent a lot of time in my head. I can't just evict you like a stranger when I know the outline of your skeleton so well and I have helped you put makeup on your face and held you as you scratched and scratched your skin trying to break free of it.
I have led you to other rooms in my mind's mansion. You never blink and it unnerves me. You only speak to criticize or scream or to threaten me. You are filled with hate, and a part of me feeds off of that hatred and takes masochistic pleasure in entertaining you. Perhaps I don't want you to go away at all. Perhaps I am simply trying on the façade of pushing you away to keep up a beautiful delusion. Do you think I need you to stay with me? Oh. I need so many things and you're the only one who has never really left I suppose. Maybe that's why I let you stay. You never blink. You are so reliable. You are the concealer, the liar, envy, self-loathing, wickedness, hatred, anger, bloodthirsty and morbid. I know who you are and I know that you will stay if I let you. Unlike most other things, the simple act of letting you sit here is assurance that you will stay.
It's getting colder and colder and I am trying to stay warm without your sweet sister. She lures me in with her pretentious smile and her ignorance of reality. You two work together quite well despite the outward appearance that you are polar opposites. Unlike you, she wears skintight black dresses that make the boys look twice and she takes pleasure in consuming their attention just for a second; she can pretend that their looks hold great significance and in being wanted for a minute, she will stop feeling empty. Her laugh is contagious, easily provoked and can sound organic if she wants it to. You stare at her, jealous of her mad energy and her impulsiveness. In a way, you envy her, but another part of you wants to hold her head under water until her sick naive smile is wiped off her face. But she's just as bad as you are, don't worry. She doesn't believe in her happiness at all, and all her energy and need to take risks is just a disguise for the part of you she sees within her.
Sit there. I know it's cold. I know it's cold. Don't be scared of being warm though. It's okay not to feel pain. I need you to reconcile yourself with the women in the other rooms. I'm sitting here ready to make peace with the two of you. I know you want to kill me, your bout of silence isn't fooling anyone. And you are sort of stopping my mind. Well really it's going too fast. And I want to slow it down by kissing and kissing and forgetting and forgetting but it still won't stop. Can you at least blink. Let me know you aren't dead. Save me. That's what you're good at. SAVE. ME.
Let me hold your frail hand for a minute. Let me talk to you for a minute. Tell me how to be safe again. Maybe I will join you. Imagine us just holding hands again, and we can wear matching faces and matching eyeliner and match match match forever. And it doesn't matter if I'm never free of you right? Because if we only have each other we only have to worry about hurting each other. And no one else.
And I won't need to feel my heart turn to cement the more men it touches. Because I am scared of men and you are scared of men, we can unite against this common enemy and maybe we won't be so terrified anymore because we won't care about them. You can remind me of their evil and I will tell you how to be normal to protect you from them. I will teach you how to keep your little demon heart locked up. Or maybe you will teach me.
I don't know if I want to let you in though. You are so sad, I want to show you how to be happy. But I see that fixated look and I worry maybe you will never know happiness. And I see the way you look at boys, eyes darting around, like you are terrified to make eye contact with them for fear that you will share too much. Keep still. Please blink. Let me know you are not dead. I think I need you. Or you need me. My bed must be warmed on Saturday, and there's no point running to the wrong boy just to convince the both of us that I don't care. Stay with me. Help me punch out these ramblings with quick moving spindles. And then I'll sleep with your head cradled in my arms and I'll touch your gold leaf skin and trace the outline of your big brown eyes. And I'll let you stay just for the night, only to lock you up tomorrow in exchange for some real comfort.
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