[Journal Entry]2011-1-20
She thinks that she can fix me...
She's like some post-modern Bluebeard's Wife, trying to wrest the key from him, the better to start the rehabilitation process. Well, I shan't stand in her way: it might be quite amusing, watching her trying to make a housecat out of a tiger, trying to tame a fallen angel.
When she sees me as I am, when she sees past the mask, what will she think? She has seen a glimpse of what lies beneath, but what will happen when she sees me in my infernal horror? when the light of the red moon bathes the land in the color of blood, as if the moon itself where bleeding? When she sees me standing beneath it, my pale hands and my white garments splattered with the blood of a victim? What then? Will she think I'm so easy to rehabilitate? I almost want to find some hapless innocent to sacrifice to my inner darkness and then appear before her fresh from the kill. Perhaps that will drive these notions out of her head.
And yet...
And yet, if she were to turn her back on me, I suspect I would be more miserable and alone than before. Much as I want to horrify her, I want to lay my head on her breast and feel her hands on my hair, forgiving me, absolving me. I want to sleep with her in my arms, feeling safe and protected. The way that I once felt in my mother's arms... at least till she learned of my father's infidelities.
Would she accept the fact that I'm not easily tied down? That I need to stray from her side, in search of other paramours, suspecting or unsuspecting, that I need the energy of other to sustain me? That I need to do this to protect her from my darkness? Would she accept the nights when I stray from her bed out of necessity?
She's like some post-modern Bluebeard's Wife, trying to wrest the key from him, the better to start the rehabilitation process. Well, I shan't stand in her way: it might be quite amusing, watching her trying to make a housecat out of a tiger, trying to tame a fallen angel.
When she sees me as I am, when she sees past the mask, what will she think? She has seen a glimpse of what lies beneath, but what will happen when she sees me in my infernal horror? when the light of the red moon bathes the land in the color of blood, as if the moon itself where bleeding? When she sees me standing beneath it, my pale hands and my white garments splattered with the blood of a victim? What then? Will she think I'm so easy to rehabilitate? I almost want to find some hapless innocent to sacrifice to my inner darkness and then appear before her fresh from the kill. Perhaps that will drive these notions out of her head.
And yet...
And yet, if she were to turn her back on me, I suspect I would be more miserable and alone than before. Much as I want to horrify her, I want to lay my head on her breast and feel her hands on my hair, forgiving me, absolving me. I want to sleep with her in my arms, feeling safe and protected. The way that I once felt in my mother's arms... at least till she learned of my father's infidelities.
Would she accept the fact that I'm not easily tied down? That I need to stray from her side, in search of other paramours, suspecting or unsuspecting, that I need the energy of other to sustain me? That I need to do this to protect her from my darkness? Would she accept the nights when I stray from her bed out of necessity?