VI; 12.13.22
I know you are projecting onto me, I don’t know if you realize what you did, what you do, or who you are—but I know. You wanted me to feel worthless, down low in the slums, I know why. That is where I have been for a long time, taking what I can get, though I should not have had to live like this, I am more than a demon. I’m still part human. When I go too fast, taking in the souls around me, I’m reminded in the end, that there are choices to make and paths to take—I don’t know which way to go when the fork in the road is right in front of me.
You’re as lost and as clueless as I am, which I knew getting into what we started, I did not judge you for it, though you judged me. We both have time, what I lack for in formality, I compensate for in passion, motivation, and imagination… that is what I’d like to believe, that is what I try to perceive when I look at myself in the mirror. I gaze at myself daily, I am sick, mentally, and physically, yet a chunk of humanity still sees something in me. Far more than the surface, more than my genetic beauty, more than the genetic anomaly that makes me fester with infections quite easily. There is a universe trapped in my head, that can be seen, touched, even—could you see it? Not that you must, or should, as some are not privy to the alternate dimensions encapsulated within the human spirit. I perceive yours, how beautiful it is, or would be, if you put yourself forward without concern of judgment upon you.
The topic of “YOU”, is pervasive in my mind, despite the disconnection of our Earthly bonding. You made a black hole in my brain, consumed by you, thinking of you, spitting out your thoughts to me, I can’t help wondering, do you see what I see? Do you hear what I hear? As I have reiterated in my writing, how much easier it’d be if I was but only a schizophrenic. Reality would be much simpler if there was truly a separation between the mentally ill, from the mentally “normal”. Normality is a social construct, an ideal that is impossible to meet when the wires in our heads are sorted specially for each individual. There might be some similarities, but we are individuals, all in this together, connected in ways we might never comprehend in this lifetime.
Is that scary? Sometimes I think it to be, that lacking privacy within our psyche is violating—going through the “prophecy”, and feeling violated on every level, I accepted it. It makes me feel protected. I’m stuck in this place of being misunderstood, a perceptible level of narcissism given to me from traumatic experiences, but I don’t need to tolerate being seen as the evil entity that psychiatrists attempt to portray personality disorders. We all have our place in the world, it does not have to be a dominating and demeaning curse forced upon us.
I love you, I always will, no matter how you make me feel emotionally. There is a string that runs from you to me, that wraps around my neck, I keep my mouth shut in the hopes of opening up that universe of yours. I don’t know if I will ever have you read all of this writing inspired by you, I only hope you will be ready for all of me one day. It might not come out to be romantic love, however, I hope to consider you my family, for always, in any way that might evolve.
Oh, you anger me, as well as frustrate and deeply sadden me with your distorted worldviews, with your false ideas about ME. With that being written in stone, I will make it known, that is what makes me love you. You inspire me, you manifest a hurricane of essays, wreaking havoc on the realm held in my brain. You’re a demon, my love, just as I am, but you need to be taught the way. You do not like the game laid out for us, and you do not seem to understand—we don’t have a choice, we have to play. That is why I play MY way, I have my convictions, and they lead me towards the ultimate path of “victory” (implying this is a game that could even be won in the material sense). I won spiritually. I’m sitting here waiting for you, this game is more fun with two, and it seems you aren’t ready whilst the game has been ready for you.
I’m a psychopath. I’m a narcissist. I’m bipolar. I’m a lover. I’m the psychic vampire that will listen, cry, and share her torment to ease another demon’s pain, I feed. I feed off the energy that is destroying our world, and I know it does not make me evil. I will consume blackholes till I die—though I do sincerely hope, I could continue to even after death.