An Apartment In Chicago - 04.30.01
I think he's gone to sleep now. There's always the chance though that he's faking it. Like I am right now. I don't know that it technically constitutes as 'faking' if you can't sleep in the first place. Fuck it. I don't care. I just don't want to be away from him. I don't want to be in this room, in this bed alone. Not tonight, not any night, not with my memories so close. Not with what I almost said earlier.
I've been having the nightmares way too often lately. Conundrum used to block them out most of the time for me, but Yorrick always fucking preached I shouldn't ignore them. Damn him for being too right sometimes. It's like if you take pain pills too much, too often, they stop working for you so that you have to take half the bottle just to shove off a headache. That's why I have to let them in or else I just fuck myself over and I'll never get past them.
It started last week. I think I'm starting to really fuck with Vince when I have them though. I don't think he even fuckin' believed me when I told him about it. How can anyone have that much fear of their own mother? That's just fucked up. Nope, not really. Not when you went through the hell I went through, but it makes me feel like a damn fool child that I'm still having nightmares about her two years after the fucking fact. I keep seeing her standin' up over me... parts of my childhood I blocked out. The Death talking to me in the hospital all the time, walking the borderlines. Things I never wanted to admit happened to me.
And strangely... he's there for me. This guy I could barely get a substantial word in edgewise with before he pressed me up against some wall... he's there. You know, it never bothered me that he wanted to fuck me. He was... is damn good at it. But lately, like in the past few weeks, it's like a whole different game. I didn't even fucking plan this and he's the one being all... well, I don't know. Fuck it.
...
Oh, fucking goddamn... the hell is with me? I feel so fucking... childish. And now I got Ferryman screaming in my head reminding me how my eye got fucked up, telling me to go fix shit. That doesn't go over well. Goes over like a sack of kittens and a brick off a fucking bridge. I'm just trying to give myself a fix and dig up some mana and he's all on my case about trying to kill myself. I'm a goddamned Moros for fuck's sake! What the hell did he think I was going to be doing? Handing out candy to kids and sending comfort letters to saggy tits in a Home, spreading the bullshit that the world's a good place? The hell with that!
But then he gets all upset about what I had been doing, and yeah it was a little risky, but that's the damned point. And he starts packing his shit up, and something just turns red inside me. I can't let this happen. I don't know, but I can't let this happen. I argue. I follow him around the apartment as he's shoving shit in his bag. I try and explain what I was doing. That it's my way.
And then he shares himself with me.
It was the weirdest fucking thing... but it was so soothing. This killer, this walking erection, this man for hire... what the hell was he doing? I mean, honestly, the first time I saw him I had to ask myself how he could possibly have beaten out 1,000,000 other sperm? Of course if you replace his own existence with his right hand, the answer is simple. Funny how that works out. But damn...
And that's about when I said it. Well, fuck... almost said it. It was so natural. On the tip of my tongue. I've only said it once. Only once years ago. I fucked it up then. I was too young to say it then. Just a stupid girl trying to make a dream out of a nightmare. I'm still too fucking young. And he is who he is. I know better. I know better. He stays. I stay... silent.
...
Jesus...
I know better...
I've been having the nightmares way too often lately. Conundrum used to block them out most of the time for me, but Yorrick always fucking preached I shouldn't ignore them. Damn him for being too right sometimes. It's like if you take pain pills too much, too often, they stop working for you so that you have to take half the bottle just to shove off a headache. That's why I have to let them in or else I just fuck myself over and I'll never get past them.
It started last week. I think I'm starting to really fuck with Vince when I have them though. I don't think he even fuckin' believed me when I told him about it. How can anyone have that much fear of their own mother? That's just fucked up. Nope, not really. Not when you went through the hell I went through, but it makes me feel like a damn fool child that I'm still having nightmares about her two years after the fucking fact. I keep seeing her standin' up over me... parts of my childhood I blocked out. The Death talking to me in the hospital all the time, walking the borderlines. Things I never wanted to admit happened to me.
And strangely... he's there for me. This guy I could barely get a substantial word in edgewise with before he pressed me up against some wall... he's there. You know, it never bothered me that he wanted to fuck me. He was... is damn good at it. But lately, like in the past few weeks, it's like a whole different game. I didn't even fucking plan this and he's the one being all... well, I don't know. Fuck it.
...
Oh, fucking goddamn... the hell is with me? I feel so fucking... childish. And now I got Ferryman screaming in my head reminding me how my eye got fucked up, telling me to go fix shit. That doesn't go over well. Goes over like a sack of kittens and a brick off a fucking bridge. I'm just trying to give myself a fix and dig up some mana and he's all on my case about trying to kill myself. I'm a goddamned Moros for fuck's sake! What the hell did he think I was going to be doing? Handing out candy to kids and sending comfort letters to saggy tits in a Home, spreading the bullshit that the world's a good place? The hell with that!
But then he gets all upset about what I had been doing, and yeah it was a little risky, but that's the damned point. And he starts packing his shit up, and something just turns red inside me. I can't let this happen. I don't know, but I can't let this happen. I argue. I follow him around the apartment as he's shoving shit in his bag. I try and explain what I was doing. That it's my way.
And then he shares himself with me.
It was the weirdest fucking thing... but it was so soothing. This killer, this walking erection, this man for hire... what the hell was he doing? I mean, honestly, the first time I saw him I had to ask myself how he could possibly have beaten out 1,000,000 other sperm? Of course if you replace his own existence with his right hand, the answer is simple. Funny how that works out. But damn...
And that's about when I said it. Well, fuck... almost said it. It was so natural. On the tip of my tongue. I've only said it once. Only once years ago. I fucked it up then. I was too young to say it then. Just a stupid girl trying to make a dream out of a nightmare. I'm still too fucking young. And he is who he is. I know better. I know better. He stays. I stay... silent.
...
Jesus...
I know better...