a lonley sociopath...

There’s no more heart to bruise. I have nothing left. Everything within me has died. That’s how I felt the day I left. I had thrown caution to the wind, packed my music, a couple of books and took off. A one way ticket to nowhere. I was never the adventurous type; I was the one who always followed the rules. To this day, I can’t remember how it began, how it progressed. I remember landing and that sinking feeling that I was alone. Panic had set in and my lungs couldn’t ingest oxygen. While we drove down that huge highway I felt myself drifting farther and farther down the point of no return. There was no turning back now. I remember driving into the city, seeing things that are now long gone.

I don’t remember my first night sleeping alone, in a bed that wasn’t my own. I don’t remember the first day of school. I remember sitting in that giant lecture hall feeling so misplaced. Feeling like I wanted to give up; I’ll never find my place in the world.  I remember making friends. I remember seeming like I blended in; I was just like any one of them; no one suspected I didn’t belong.

The middle is a mystery to me. Bits and pieces drift in and out of memory, but there’s no concrete memory. There are lots of fragmented images and disjointed sound bites, but I can’t piece it together to create a whole representation.   There was always music. Music feeds the soul and makes everything better. The red glow of my beloved Moulin Rouge. Paris is the backdrop of my revolution.

Now it’s all different. Now I don’t want to remember. I want to find the source. I hate people. I loathe them. When I’m alone I feel real. I am who I am. Everything you do pisses me off. I’m a loner and if you dare disturb my solitude dot dot dot. I used to be a social hermit; now I’m just a lonely sociopath.

Paper-perfect. I can be so charming. Warm and disarming. Inside, I’m raging and wanting to gouge your eyes out, coat them in chocolate and serve them on a stick to unsuspecting children. I want to lurk in the shadows and see a murder. I want to talk to a rape victim seconds after her ordeal and ask her how she felt. Look into her eyes as she talks about the pain.  I want to scream my lungs out until they fill this room. Until I bleed. I want to cut the fat off my body and starve myself. Cut chic designs on my legs and colour them in florescent colours. New age tattoos.

I can’t remember how I got here. One day, I was sitting in a room, dreaming of getting away. Now, 20 years later, I’ve lived in different places. I’ve ended up in a wasteland. A dump site for humans. This bus smells like body odour, unwashed dog and booze. Like work. How sadly true. I blend the surreal, the real and unreal. I don’t make sense in my head anymore. I pay $175 to sort through it all. I have thought up a wish list. Three things to solve. If I can commit to letting these things go, I’ll be ok and then we can clone me. “and if you complain once more, you’ll meet an army of me.” A redheaded sea of the dead. Aimed to kill and maim. Seek out and destroy, all to the tune of Madonna’s latest hit.

The eternal goddess. When you slithered into my life, it was wonderful. There was a reason to get up and smile. You always look so good. I would sneak in glances; it was so obvious. You were my obsession. I would part the sea for you. Even now, you still enchant me. If I had a heart, it would skip a beat at the mere mention of your name. Getting over you was the hardest thing I’ve had to do. You haven’t been replaced. Yet. When you start sentences with “did I ever tell you” I feel like we’re almost friends. Like I’m almost a part of your life.  The more I learn about you, the more I hate you. The more I want to get away from you. You are so toxic. The sound of your voice is acid to my skin. When you say my name, the air leaves my lungs and my brain shrinks.  You share things with me that I don’t care about. I wonder how anyone can get so close to you and survive?

Up here I pretend to be safe. I pretend no one can get to me up here. A false sense of security; my dreams are full of betrayal. You betray me because we are not even. You’re on a higher playing ground. You’ve upgraded your weapons. My batteries are dead. My emotional state is dangerous. I could blow at any second. If you say something in a tone that suggests anything, I’ll burst into tears, the world will come crashing down and I’ll stand alone and embarrassed. Stupid and sheepish.

“Only the one that hurts you, can make you feel better. Only the one that inflicts the pain, can take it away...”

From the Inside of my Head.

***

Caged in silence. This silence will be the death of me. My lips are sewn shut and my brain explodes every day. I bleed rubble. Your silence is killing me. Silence. Everywhere I go is a blocked exit. If I eat my way to 600 lbs, then I’ll be ok. Trapped in my body and mind. In my earthquake world, you were my panic room. Safe and accessible. All I can do now is look at you through a glass window. Sinking and invisible unable to break through to the other side. I wish I had a destructive habit. I wish I had no control. I wish you didn’t have to go away.

***

I sit, broken hearted and insane, spewing clichés at you and I hate myself with every tear dropped. I listen to your words like gospel and I’m falling apart inside. I’m broken. Pieces of my heart are scattered around and I don’t know how to put myself together. I’ve opened the flood gates and can’t close them. Wave after devastating wave crashes against the inside of my mind and I get lost in darkness. You’re no longer there to guide me and the thought of continuing without you is overwhelming.  Lost in my head. Suddenly I can’t see the truth anymore. I flip things that aren’t there and my reality is shifting. I’ve lost the control I’ve worked so hard to keep. Years of holding on, of building a wall. Now I’m alone with all that hatred locked on the other side. You keep coming back to me with yet. I can’t resist you.  My face stings from tears. For months I’ve been praying for the courage to break down. Now I’m broken and down and can’t get fixed. I suddenly don’t care about having a meltdown in front of you. I’m suddenly so desperate for your attention, that it almost feels natural. When you sit me down and ask me what’s wrong. If I want to tell you something. My head screams YES! Get it out! Now’s your chance! Seize it! My mouth can barely form the word, no. I breathe it out: nothing. I’m aching to talk to you. You speak and every word you say creates a hurricane within me. I nod and agree.  A million thoughts come crashing down and I can’t speak. I feel disturbed and pathetic. I can’t explain anything; and when words finally escape from beyond tears, it sounds horribly lame. Suddenly, I’m a 16 year old emo girl who can’t deal. You listen patiently and speak in that warm comforting tone.  I can’t even look at you. In my fragmented tear stained monologue I manage to express a lot of what’s been protected; what’s been caged.  You offer endless support; you say words that are so calming and so reassuring, I feel a chill inside.

***

So this is what heartbreak feels like...

With great hatred comes great clarity. I can suddenly see you in the light. You’re image is so crystal clear and sharp, if I come any closer I’ll cut myself.

                “See these eyes of envy. Bitterness it's true, I'm looking through your ashes. Looking right at you, ten thousand years of loving could never set me free from this web of hate I've woven; this chosen misery... Carry scars of sorrow but I have no regrets. And I will return tomorrow: I'm not finished hating yet...”

Things I want to say are exploding again in my mouth. Blood like acid is killing me from the inside. I thought I could trust you, but you’ve cast me aside. Where once I would follow you like a shadow I now stand filled with hate and regret. Deconstructing my journey, trying to rid myself of this... ache.  For the first time I can admit that I’m hurt. I can’t convey the magnitude of how hurt I am.  You are un-phased. You can’t wait to leave, never to return. I can’t believe you can’t see it. I can’t believe you weren’t there for me...I’ve made the serious mistake of trusting you.  I’m heartbroken because of you... and you can’t even see it.  I keep these words locked in my head. I hold on to them so tightly, I can’t see straight. For three days tears threaten and break free. I’m on the verge of defeat. I feel broken. I want to blame you but I can’t. What a devastating chain of events...

                “I go to these places intending to think to think of nothing, no anticipate. And somehow expect you'll find me there that by some miracle you'd be aware...”

Music, again, like a hug finds its way into my soul and speaks to me in ways nothing else can. And suddenly I can breathe again. In my little shoebox heaven in the shadow of my beloved Moulin Rouge I can break down and pretend someone gives a damn. I can pretend that tomorrow isn’t coming. That maybe there’s a possibility, a slight chance that things will work out in my favour...it’s all so dramatic. I feel like Garbo. I vant to be alon...if it was only that easy.

I hate that you can’t see why this is so hard. I hate that you silence me. That you yell at me. I hate that I can’t blame you for any of it. I hate that I feel so insignificant to you. For a stupid moment I thought I meant something to you. The realization that I don’t hurts.  I hate, can barely stand it, that this is the end. I’ll probably never see you again.

                “Without you, without you everything falls apart. Without you, without you, it’s not as much fun to pick up the pieces...”

***

The Heart.

The heart. What a useless thing.

It bends and bleeds and breaks

It skips a beat at the sound of your ring,

And when it sees an empty door, it aches.

It swells and rises,

It cries when your eyes are dry.

It stays strong during an emotional crisis,

Its capacity to love is endless, like the sky.

I never knew I had one, until it broke.

Suddenly the world faded

And it felt like a stroke.

Every day anticipating that which I most dreaded.

So here I sit, alone and defeated

A broken heart rotting in my chest.

Tears that fall from my eyes leave me depleted,

I pledge to hate you, forever with zest.

Your silence rings so fierce in my ears

It makes me want to scream.

My body is overflowing; I can’t stop these damned tears,

I keep hoping to wake from this nightmarish dream.

Every day brings new sorrow

And I feel like a fucking cliché,

I know what you’ll say, think positive tomorrow!

I just want to tell you to go away.

It’s a maze of confusion

And days filled with shit.

In my shoebox heaven I can revel in delusions,

Try on a hammer that fits...

The Disturbed Sit Still...

The disturbed sit still. I’m like a black widow waiting patiently in my web. I lure you in and then mess with your mind.  I spin my silk around your brain until you’re blind from within and you don’t know how you got so lost. I’ll steal you into my embrace, lull you into a love coma and then suck your blood dry. You’ll be alive, but your existence will confuse you and leave you wandering aimlessly in a world you once knew; and you’ll long for release. I’ll tighten the web and look into your eyes. I’ll reassure you that it’s all ok, there’s nothing to be afraid of. I’ll stroke your face and kiss you softly on the lips and you’ll let down your guard, against your better judgement and the nightmare will begin all over again when the sun sets. In the day light I’ll pretend I don’t know you. I’ll ignore your pleas for a shred of recognition from me. I’ll continue to look into your eyes and I’ll see you plead and lose another piece of sanity.  I’ll smile at you maliciously, and walk gently away.  I’ll leave you stranded and naked in the middle of an intersection, dying. Praying to a god you had abandoned in your youth. Every morsel of your now pathetic being will be in my power. Like a love hungry abused puppy you’ll be at my command. I’ll whisper horrible truths in your ear while you sit chained at my feet for hours while I ignore you. When you finally hear my voice directed at you, you’ll do anything to win my love and trust again; I’ll play mind games with your head.  I’ll plant tiny timed explosions; years after you’ve escaped my deadly clutch, you’ll think you’ve found peace. You’ll move on with your life, find a good therapist, a partner who’ll accept you with your flaws. And then out of nowhere, years down the line, you’ll implode from within. Piece by piece you’ll fall apart until you’re nothing but rubble. The jagged edges will cut anyone who dares to come close. You’ll be unable to speak, because I will have stolen your lips. I will keep them in a jar next to your picture. I’ll leave ghost trails in your soul; you won’t be able to trace me. I’ll disappear and reappear in your nightmares.  Like a caged animal battling for release, I’ll terrorize you from the inside of your brain. You’ll go mad and you won’t be able to speak my name. I’ll cut out a piece of your heart and wear it around my neck; like a powerful voodoo doll I’ll be able to control you for eternity. You won’t understand it, but you’ll long for me, even after you’ve left me. I’ll be like a childhood hymn stuck in the back of your mind, like a painful thorn in your side. When you open your mouth to speak, a thousand fire ants will gush out of you. The darkness will once again wash you over and you’ll pray for peace. You’ll memorize the bible and think foolishly that god can hear you; that he cares, that he can do anything to stop me.  I can read your heart like a map. I fill it with wrong turns. I prevent you from breathing. I keep you in a glass coffin on display and you’re paralyzed; terrorized and full of dread. You can’t sleep because the fear holds you so tightly, you suffocate. You feel claustrophobic in your own skin and I tell you I’ll cut holes in your body to release some of that ache. I look into your eyes for the first time in a while and I can see the dread. This makes me warm and fuzzy inside and I take out my knife. You are still unable to speak. You can’t move. You regret not taking Morse code more seriously back then. Your brain pulls into a high speed pursuit. You become frantic and scared and you wish you weren’t so dehydrated so you could pee yourself: it would be humiliating, but at least you would have some semblance of control over your mind and body. If you could cry it would mean you’re still partly human. You hope this thought could appeal to some part of me that’s not disturbed. But I’ve long ago learned to ignore those impulses. Buffalo Bill’s got nothing on me.  I don’t need to tell you to put the lotion in the basket. I transport my threats telepathically and you reluctantly hear me inside of you. I turn off the light and blow you a kiss in the dark.  

Sweet dreams lover...

Shoebox Heaven and Consequences...

In my little shoebox heaven there’s a false sense of stability. I’ve seen this movie before. There’s nowhere safe on this planet. I contemplate consequences, their place in my head. Their lack. A world without consequences sounds seductively dangerous. I wonder if I could ever let go. I wonder if I could ever get comfortable. You’ve slipped away from me and I can’t fathom a way back.  In my little shoebox heaven, I can pretend that everything is ok. I can pretend they’re not watching me. Spying on my every key stroke. The threat of the outside world remains just that: outside. My inner demons come out and all hell breaks loose, but it’s ok, because I’m safe in my shoebox. In my head I have scenarios, entire conversations; oh, the things I would say and do if there weren’t consequences.  

               

“Holes imply, a hole practically begs to be filled and my head is a hole full of thoughts. Unspeakable thoughts of violence against you. Thoughts of revolution. If my holes were revolution, they would fill themselves and overflow and the unspeakable from every hole would drown you.  I lie there full of holes wanting to disappear; I want to be empty, holes want to be empty. I want to be hollow, understand?”

I wonder about all the horrible things I want to say. The dark images in my head obliterate any notion, or even idea of light. I hate the light. I think about the great literary characters who didn’t give a flying fuck about consequences, I think about movies I’ve seen. If life were a movie... I think about eating myself to death. Shut the world out and eat until I can’t move. They’ll need a whale transporter to deliver me to the hospital to die. That death scene from The Simpsons pops up in my mind: where Homer dies of obesity and has to be buried in a piano crate; the lift breaks and his body crushes that of his family. How tragically comic.

I would die without music. If I ever went deaf, I’d demand a refund ticket and hop on the first train back. I’d die. I wonder about my relationships with people; I think about how I relate – or don’t - to those around me. This can’t be normal... can it? I read about broken people, flawed people, they still find someone. Serial killers get married in jail and have stacks of amateur porn in their cells.  People with bad breath have someone to kiss every night.