Lately, I've been thinking about what it would be like to carry his child. We speak of it, in whispered words and passionate tones, love and lust and creation of something that neither of us want. Perhaps it is the loneliness that edges further into my soul every single moment of my tortured life (andnoteverythingisbecauseofhim, therainfelluponmyskinbeforehe'deversmiledatme) making me feel this way, but I will never know. Memories and hopes, wishes and dreams. Spring break, and no one to spend it with - no warmth and soft waves, beaches and sand. Walks under the moonlight, the starlight, each little star a drop of my blood pulsing through my veins, heart beating rapidly in excited happiness.
It made me paint my bathroom blue. Listening to demonic metal, though the demons are merely in my own soul. Painting, running away from what I envision in my mind. My room is green, now; but perhaps soon I can mimic the ocean, and hear the waves before I sleep. I can still remember the feel of the water, laughing as he caught me before I drowned. (doeseveryonethinkthatthisismyproblem? thesememorieskeepmesane... mylifeisnotwhatyouthink)
There isn't anything that I can remember beyond this, beyond the happiness that I felt, because everything before was pain. Screaming and blood and separation; torn away from society when I was so very, very young. Everything I had known when I was little had changed, and yet sometimes I cannot help but wish I was there again.
I cannot help but be who I am.
Lonely. Alone. Abused and mutilated. A lost and lonely child that grew too fast, reaching towards that fateful sun that denied its brilliant light to its own child.
And then the rain came.
Pouring down on me, refreshing my soul and mind until it came down in torrents, threatening to overcome my fragile and frail body. Twisting and screaming under the pressure I remain, walking on through the rain until the end appears.
The end is near.
Running towards the light that I see; (and it comes to be that the soothing light at the end of your tunnel is just a freight train coming your way...) and everything ends when I reach the point of perfect brilliance.
The shadows come.
I spend my days now hidden in shadow, the mysterious ranger in the corner that disappears without a trace at the end of the night. I remain a mystery, even to those who know me, a faded name that none can really comprehend (thisisnotme) as it is not real. Do you know who I am?
Can you see me?
Blind and invisible, faded into the dark. A shadow I am.
A shadow I will be.