The Terror Of Happiness

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A while ago, I had to go see a counsellor on a bad day. What’s he told me stuck with me; damaged people tend to sabotage healthy relationships because they’re so unused to what it feels like to be happy. It’s easier for them to remain miserable, because they’ve learnt to trust unhappiness.

I can understand why, though unlike those people, I’ve learnt not to trust what my brain tells me.

Right now, I’m so happy that it hurts, and that scares me, because the idea of losing that small, overpowering piece of happiness feels like it could tear me in two. 

Everything I Can Never Have

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You can thank Flash for this. 

Or burn him at the stake for it. 

Either way, thanks to him, I’m posting a scene from my latest story/novel/thing. 

Well, actually it’s more of a short story spinoff thing. I was writing about the background of one of the characters in the story/novel/thing and one thing lead to another and I ended up writing a short story.

Which includes a sex scene at the end.

Also, yes Flash, that’s what I named you. Welcome to my blog. Don’t bother stalking it for new posts because you’ll only see one once every blue moon. Blame Year 12.

And no Daniel, you cannot toast marshmallows on Flash’s bonfire.

Let’s go.

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“I don’t love her…” grumbled Xavier. 

“Well you’re going to have to. You want to be a humanitarian, you need money. Which your parents won’t give to you if you refuse to marry her.”

“Oh I can marry her.” He rolled his eyes. “What’s a few more lies? Yes, I am interested in attending that gala. Of course I like that decor, put it all over our home. Yes, I love you and want and spend the rest of my life with you.”

Cassidy sighed. “You shouldn’t have let your parents meet her if you despise her so much.”

“Oh, I didn’t introduce her. She conveniently found a book that I left behind and went to my house to drop it off. When I got back from work, she had them eating out of her hand.”

She let out a long whistle. “She’s that good, huh?”

Xavier groaned. “Yeah, she’s everything they dreamed of. Well groomed, impeccable manners, and most importantly, our children will be physically perfect.”

“And boring as batshit. Here’s an idea, after she gives the Augustine line their precious offspring, set her up in the most public, most scandalous affair you can imagine. Mummy and Daddy will rush to remove her from the family portrait.”

“And tarnish the reputation of our children? Have them questioning their parentage? My parents have enough trouble keeping us in line already.” 

She stuck her tongue out at him. “You’re boring too.”

He ignored her. “Not to mention the bullying and psychological damage that years of name calling would cause. It would be less traumatic for them if she died.” 

Cassidy glanced around her apartment. “Since there’s no wood to knock on…” She tapped on the glass coffee table. Xavier rolled his eyes at her. “Would your wife even be interested in raising your children?” she asked, a slow smile spreading across her lips. “Maybe you’ll be needing a nanny. Think Mummy would recognise me?” 

Xavier shook his head, smiling. “Oh they’ve never forgotten you. And you’d never be able to remain civil and polite for so long. There’s also the fact that you hate children.”

“Not if I had to push them out of me, I wouldn’t. But I can deal with other people’s children fine. Just don’t make me give birth to one.”

“Isn’t that half the joy for women? Experiencing the miracle of birth?”

“This is why you need someone like me as a nanny. Otherwise your children are going to grow up stupid,” she told him. 

“I think the term is idealistic.” Xavier wasn’t at all put off by Cassidy’s insult.

“As I was saying…” Cassidy was ignoring him. “If I had a baby, I’d probably go under watch for post natal depression, knowing my parents’ history. And your soon to be fiancĂ© is probably the same.”

“You don’t know that,” Xavier said.

“You said it before; she’s an air headed snob, she’s probably never even heard of it. I bet that she’s never going to give you head.”

“Oh, the horror,” Xavier said dryly. “I don’t believe I can handle such a torturous fate!”

The doorbell rang. Before he could say anything, Cassidy threw a blanket over Xander’s head before answering it. Xander rolled his eyes and smiled. He could fall asleep like this, on Cassie’s couch. He was even beginning to drift off when she plopped herself next to him. “I come with unhealthy peasant food!” she announced, handing him plastic container filled with rice and a bright red sauce. “Don’t tell Mummy.”

“I eat this all the time, I’m not that sheltered,” he told her. “Now go put on the movie.”

“Whatever you say, your highness,” Cassidy rolled her eyes as she got up.

“Did Matthew have the pleasure of being called ‘your highness’?” he asked provocatively.

“Of course not, he’s an asshole,” she retorted. “The only reason I call you ‘your highness’ is because it makes you laugh, which is better than you being a poor little rich boy.” The opening credits started playing, and she went to go dim the lights. When old Zachary began his story, she finally returned with the bottle of wine. “I’ve got a feeling I’m going to need a lot of this,” she informed him, settling down with her curry. 

“You’ll enjoy it,” Xavier reassured her.

She did, much to Xavier’s satisfaction. It was so rare to find a movie that she could sit through without getting bored, though she did come up with a drinking game for it; drink every time the sextet plays, a magic birthmark appears, or you recognise an actor playing more than one character. By the end of it, the bottle was empty, and she was snuggled against him. “You’re so much more cuddly when you’re plastered,” Xavier informed her.

“Am not,” she mumbled, not making any attempt to move herself from her current position. “And so are you.”

He smiled in the dark. The only sound that could be heard was their steady breathing. It was peaceful.

“You’ve never done it before, have you?” she asked softly. There was no teasing in her voice this time.

“Of course not,” he replied. “Girls were terrifying in high school. And now that I’m considered old enough to carry on the lineage, I’m not allowed to get into any ‘scandals’. Not that I was before. Surely you know this?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I guess it only sank in when I saw you watch Chang and Sonmi.” She looked up at him, almost gentle. “You’re a romantic. The worst thing you can be in this world.”

Xavier rolled his eyes. “Pessimist.”

There was silence. “Have you ever wanted to?”

“Do what?”

“Don’t be so naive. You know what I’m talking about.”

He looked down at her. “Of course I have.”

“What stopped you?”

“.,.fear?” It sounded more like he was asking.

“Fear?”

“I don’t know!” he said impatiently. “It’s harder than you make it out be. The possibility that she’d laugh in your face is terrifying. And why would she even both with you? She’s beautiful and unattainable, and you’re just this scared guy she probably hates.”

“Why would she hate you?” She frowned. 

Xavier was about to respond, but he cut himself off. He searched desperately for a suitable answer. “You know how it is,” he said weakly. “Girls are proud…haughty…you know? And it’s a fucking private school too, so they’re worse.”

“…ah.” She went quiet again.

Xavier went on. “I’m not like you. I’m scared of what will happen if I do something I shouldn’t. I’m scared of messing up permanently, and losing everything I love as a result. And-” His lips were suddenly covered by her palm. He stared at her in shock, before the blood rushed to his face. 

She wouldn’t look away from him. “You shouldn’t think so much,” she informed him. “If you want something, you should take it. In that regard you should be more like your family.” She took her hand down from his face, and rested it on his shoulder. He was frozen, completely entranced. “Don’t be scared of me. If you don’t want something, tell me, and I’ll stop. And I won’t mind if you do.” She looked deep into his eyes, waiting for affirmation.

He swallowed, closing his eyes. Despite the pit in his stomach, the hammering of his heartbeat against his chest, there was a part of him that was screaming at him to accept. Despite that, the words of loyalty were on the tip of his tongue. I can’t do that to Annabelle…My family will kill me… “I…” 

“I don’t want anything from you,” Cassidy insisted. “I don’t care if you walk out of here and never contact me again. But…if I can help you this way…”

“How…how is this helping?”

This time, it was Cassidy going still. “I…I want to show you what it’s like. When…it doesn’t have to be a chore. And…” Another pause. “…I want your first time to be with me,” she admitted. 

Xavier opened his eyes. She was looking away from him, her long hair hiding her colourless face. She moved her hand from his shoulder and stood up, almost robotically, clearing the coffee table of the empty takeout containers and wine glasses. The lights came on, and she went to the kitchen, leaving Xavier alone. 

The sane part him turned to the door, listing to him all the reasons that this shouldn’t happen. What would they do if they knew? His parents saw her as a corrupting force, a gold digging hobo who would bring nothing but scandal. They’d destroy her if they knew that she…that he had let her…

He wasn’t ready for this. Truth be told, he wasn’t even sure he’d be ready on his wedding night. All of his weaknesses- his shyness, his complete lack of self confidence- would be on full display. He was terrified of looking foolish, and he knew that Annabelle would rip him to shreds if he did. He thought of Cassie’s teasing and bitter remarks. Would she be just as critical as a lover? He didn’t know. 

But he did know that he felt more like himself around Cassidy than he ever would with Annabelle.

He stood up. He wished that he was normal, that something like this would come easily to him. His voice came out a stammer. “Cassie…”

She didn’t respond. He walked over to the kitchen, where she was rinsing the pan of failed casserole. “I know you can hear me,” he told her. Cassidy said nothing, but she inclined her head slightly. Xavier breathed in. “I don’t know what to do,” he confessed.

“That’s fine,” she said. “You don’t have to make yourself do-” 

“No, I mean, I don’t know what to do,” he interrupted. “I mean…I don’t know what sort of things that I’m meant to do, or how I’m meant to touch you. But…” He nearly jumped when Cassidy suddenly looked over her shoulder, but he quickly regained control. He inhaled. “But…I want to. And I want…”

She turned her whole body away from the sink then. “Do you want me to show you?” she asked directly. She made no move to touch him, however.

So Xavier took a small step forward. When she wasn’t wearing heels, they stood eye to eye. He breathed in, averting his eyes. “Yes…I do,” he said, ignoring the discomfort in his stomach. “But…just so you know, I probably won’t be any good,” he added hurriedly.

Her lips curled into a small smile. “I wouldn’t expect you to be,” she told him. “But that’s okay.” She glanced downward, and raised her hand to the laces of her shirt. 

Xavier’s hand came over hers, stopping it. Before she could say anything, he cupped her face and pressed his lips against hers, losing himself in the warmth of her skin. She feels and smells like summer, he thought, before his hand found her neck and he lowered his head to nuzzle into the softness, planting kisses against the base of her throat. He could feel Cassidy sway slightly, before suddenly tightening her grip on his hand. He looked up at her, feeling the heat come back to his face, and any confidence he had gained from kissing her retreated to the back of his mind. 

She noticed his discomfort and smiled reassuringly. She leant in again, for another kiss, and Xavier was suddenly aware of his zipper being pulled down, and the warmth of her fingers searching around the fabric of his-

He let out a yelp, as if he was a scared little puppy instead of a grown man. He felt the blood rush to his face, praying that Cassidy wouldn’t laugh. Their eyes met, and his chest tightened, as he felt the urge to bolt. Her hand backed away, but he was still trembling from her touch. “May I?” she asked gently. When he didn’t answer, she released his hand and rested it against his face, waiting again.

Xavier took in another deep breath, and nodded. In case that wasn’t enough for her, he put his hands on her waist, pulling her towards him. His lips found her again, and she relaxed quickly. Her fingers traced the edge of his waistband, Xavier’s breaths becoming shorter and shorter the further her hand went. When she first stroked him, he couldn’t help but shudder, gripping onto her like a lifeline. Her hand kept going, and just when Xavier thought he’d fall apart, she stepped away from him, chuckling slightly as he groaned in frustration. Finally there was a trace of the Cassie he was used to. He didn’t stop her as she stripped off her shirt and her shorts, nor when she wrapped herself around him, drawing him to the kitchen bench where she hopped up and looked down at him with eyes almost black, though there was still that slither of silver at the edge.

Forgetting everything, forgetting his promises, forgetting his duty, Xavier crushed her against him, kissing her breasts through the thin fabric of her bra and cupping her mound with his hand. His fingers pushed aside the flimsy underwear, running one down the entrance of her sex. When she let out a sigh, he looked up, surprised. Cassidy looked just as shocked, though she instantly recovered, making her face as neutral as possible. “I’m the one who should do the teasing,” she murmured. She wouldn’t look at him.

Xavier felt like grinning, but then her hand was stroking him again, and the pit in his stomach returned. Her grip was tighter than before, but it definitely wasn’t unpleasant. “Does this feel good? Or do you want more than this?” she asked him, taking back control.

Her touch was so warm, so tantalising that it made Xavier ache. “Please…” he managed to speak.

“Do you want to?”

“…yes.” He took the hand that was rubbing him, hesitating. No matter what Cassie said, he couldn’t stop now; the line had already been crossed. He did his best to ignore his heart throbbing in his chest, as he held her by her hips and finally buried himself inside her, sealing away his soul.

Madness took over. He grabbed her legs, kissing her frantically as he drove into her again and again. All his fear had vanished. The threat of his family was gone. The only thing that existed was the skinny little homeless girl he met three years ago- who now writhed beneath him on the granite benchtop, calling out his name. 

It had never been that simple though, and from that moment on, there would be absolutely nothing that could’ve described what she meant to him. The moment he finally collapsed into her, her name spilling out from his lips, Xavier could’ve died then and died happy. Instead, they slid onto the kitchen floor, wrapped in each other’s embrace. Neither of them wanted to move, especially him. For that moment of time, he had everything that he could ever want, and everything that he would never be allowed to have.

Alive

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I mechanically slipped the loop over my head, and pulled in the buckle to make it fit my neck. I walked over to the hinge on the door, and tossed the strap through the gap and over. I held the other end and gulped. Pull. 

I hoisted myself up, and clipped the end of the strap to my noose in one fell swoop. I closed my eyes. Sleep.

I was floating in space again, in the universe that I created. Dust and rock floated past me, the shadows swarmed around me. It was warm, not like Reality, which was steadily becoming colder and colder. 

Then someone shouted my name.

I woke up, struggling to breath. Of course, that was my intention. The banging coming from the other side of the door jolted me, causing my body to swing. Instinctly, I tried to regain my footing; but I was two, maybe three feet off the ground, dangling from my bag strap. 

I knew at once that I couldn’t do this to him. I couldn’t hurt him like this. I tried to unclip myself, but tugging on the strap only swung me around more, choked me more. I looked down. The lock. I attempted to reach it with my hand; bad idea. Desperately, I moved my foot to it, and pushed the lock down, and there was a click. 

Daniel barged in, slamming me and the door against the wall. I would’ve cried out at the pain if I had air to do so. When he saw me, his face twisted into a horrified expression. Immediately, he grabbed me and hoisted my body up. “How do I untie you?” he demanded. It was then that he noticed the clip. He held me up against the door, lifting me with his left arm, as he unclasped the makeshift noose with his free hand. 

He lowered me to the ground and loosened the bag strap, sliding it off. I just closed my eyes, ignoring his yells. I was too numb. Far too numb. 

Until I’d heard sobbing. I opened my eyes. Daniel was huddled over, tears streaming down his face. No… I crawled over to him, reached out to touch him.

He flinched. 

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered. “Please don’t cry. Daniel…”

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I spent the rest of the day in the hospital. Eventually they took me home, blaming it on the medication. And I locked myself in my cupboard, forbidding myself from seeing light.

I am a monster. 

I sobbed and screamed without letting out a sound. My parents knocked on the door occasionally to make sure that I was still alive, and I created a handy bulge in my bed to create the illusion that I was under the covers in case they came in.

How could I do that? Why would I even think about hurting Daniel in such a way? Not just him either. Willis, Flash, Bad Dog, Evil, Snugglepot. Fucking hell. I didn’t even deserve to be human.

Worthless, Inconsiderate, Selfish, Whore, Bitch.

Finally, I slept. It was cold, but I had slept in worse conditions than a closet. I should be back there, freezing to death. No, that’s not good enough. I need worse. I should have my head sliced off again, or get stabbed millions upon millions of times. Or I should be sent back to that brothel to be tortured. Neck snapped. Drowning, again. Throat slit. Something. Maybe all of those.

Suddenly, I was warm.  

I knew who it was. “Don’t Daniel,” I croaked. 

He ignored me. “What part of ‘no’ don’t you understand?” I hissed. “Just leave me there, okay?”

He kept walking, with me in his arms. He dropped me on the bed and pulled the covers over me before walking out of my bedroom.

Promptly, I got out and walked back into the closet, closing the door behind me. Instantly, it opened, and he grabbed my arm. “Bed,” he growled.

“I’m sleeping here.”

“That’s mature of you.”

“Just leave me alone, okay?” I cried, wrenching myself free and slamming the closet door. 

It opened again. “Don’t be stupid,” he insisted. “You can sleep here.”

“You know that I can.”

“And you know that this is foolish,” he retorts.

I closed the door again. When it opened, I kicked him in the stomach, sending him flying. I immediately shut it, hearing his grunt and curse from the other side. He didn’t open the door again though.

Good.

The pain flooded through me, and I collapsed onto the closet floor, tears coming back again. I needed this. This was only a teaspoon of what Daniel must’ve been feeling like when he found me. Jesus, how many times has he found me in similar predicaments? Getting choked by a shadow. Beaten to a pulp by my mother. Lying on the bathroom floor coughing out water. Cutting my thighs with a razor. I deserve all this.

Then I heard him speak, from behind the door. “I know what you’re doing.” 

I remained silent. He sighed. “You’re feeling guilty.”

No shit Sherlock.

“And you’re trying to make me go away so that you can suffer by yourself,” Daniel continued. “Because you believe that you deserve to. But that’s wrong.”

Liar.

“Kicking me won’t make me think of you badly. Because that’s the only reason why you did it, so I’d hate you.”

I hit you in the beginning. When we first became friends.

“That’s the one thing about you. You’re so careful about everyone’s reactions that you calculate your every move. That’s why I know that you’re doing this to drive me away. Because you’re usually so deadly afraid of being violent towards someone you care about. And I know you do care. You let that slip today in the bathroom.”

I kept my mouth closed. I heard Daniel sigh. “I don’t hate you,” he told me. “I never would. I just want you to be safe…and I thought that was going to be possible without Delirium in your life. But…” His voice trailed off.

I curled into a ball on the ground, huddling under my clothes. Eventually, he spoke again. “Do you still need me?” he asked me. “Is there any reason for me to still be in your life?”

My heart lurched at the question. No was the right answer, the deadly logical side of me said. He’s part of Delirium, he doesn’t belong here. The longer you hold onto Daniel, the more you’ll be dragged away from the real world. And then you’ll never be normal. Say goodbye. NOW.

“I…” I found myself speaking for the first time since Daniel had began talking. I had to say it. Otherwise…. “I…” 

Send him away. Move on.

No.

So you’re going to be a freak that talks to herself for the rest of her life?

If he wants to leave, I’ll let him go. But he is the one person who has stood by me despite everything. And I’m not going to let pride get in the way, not this time.

“Of course I do,” I choked, sobbing again. “I…you’re….you’re the only person left that knows me for who I really am. And yet…you’re here.” I held onto the door handle and pulled myself up. “And I really don’t know why.”

The door opened and I was brought out into the light. Daniel stumbled backwards, as if he had been expecting me to be holding it back. His face was puffy and his eye was shining from tears. “But I love you,” I told him. “I know that. I know that I love you and I need you by my side, because…I want you to see me become a better person. I want you to see me be happy, and not post-breakdown-adrenaline-induced happy, but actually happy, and alive.” For the first time in what seemed like eternity, I smiled. It was an utterly broken smile, and the tears probably ruined it, but I didn’t care. “Is that…something you’d be interested in staying around for?”

Daniel stared at me before laughing weakly. “You and your moodswings,” he whispered. 

“Yours are worse.”

He laughed again. “And I’d love to. You being alive and happy sounds wonderful.”

Wonderful,” I mimicked him.

“Shush.”

I took his hand.

Addicted

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Things I have been/am not currently addicted to:

1- Delirium. Can you really blame me? It was a place where I could be strong and courageous instead of weak and useless. It gave me the opportunity to be this unstoppable force, and there was no better feeling.

2- Junk food. Then I decided that I’d hate myself even more if I was fat as well.

3- Cutting. This was back when I first tried to kill myself. I still couldn’t feel after that, and it took Daniel to make me snap out of it, another more powerful addiction.

4- Cracking my knuckles. I was even younger when I had this habit. For some reason, I always did it while playing video games. I don’t anymore.
Things I’m afraid of getting addicted to. A much longer list.

1- Prescription Medicine. Hence why I don’t take it. Probably should, but I’m too scared of the potential side effects, not to mention my negative history with St Johns Wort.

2- Sex. It’s not that I’ve got a problem with it, I just worry about the situations I could potentially get myself in because of it. And I can only think of the problems that it would cause if, for some reason, I happened to be in a relationship.

3- Not-so-Prescription Medicine. Ie, drugs. Togami mentions occasionally that one day I’ll be interested in experimenting, but right now, I’m too scared of permanently fucking up my already fucked up mental state to try.

4- Alcohol. Not likely, considering how the taste of my first drink wasn’t that good. But if I find a nice tasting alcoholic beverage, then this is likely to change.

5- Self Harm. If I am in that place where I have to mutilate my body just to gain some twisted sense of fulfilment, I’m checking myself into hospital. The end.

6- Shopping. I really don’t have that much money that I can afford to splurge it on luxuries like shoes and tea and corsets. If I’m going to be able to move out of home, I need to moderate.

7- Violence. I know that I’ve got that streak inside me. Right now, it festers as passive-agressiveness. And that’s where I want it to stay.
What I’m currently addicted to:

1- Modelling. I like people thinking that I’m beautiful. I like thinking that I’m beautiful. But I’m only capable of being that in front of a camera, and god knows for how long.

2- Friends. Mainly because if I’m by myself for too long, I’ll remember all the various reasons why I hate myself, which can contribute to why I don’t have friends in the first place.

3- Daniel. Probably the one lifeline I actually have. But what sort of life am I going to have if I can’t live without my imaginary best friend?

4- Anxiety. I thrive on those panic attacks where I can feel everything, pain and pleasure. I love to feel my heart race, to gulp down freezing cold air, right before my breathing gives out and I collapse from the feel of everything.

5- Depression. When the anxiety attack I’m hoping for just won’t come, I’ll just go lower and lower until I hit rock bottom and it hurts. Because then I’ll finally remember what better feels like.

6- Love. The scariest drug of them all.

My whole existence is a series of addictions, one after the other.

The Shrink List(s)

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Why I need to see a psychologist

1- Without one, I end up using the few people who remain my friends as a surrogate, much to their dismay. Seriously, they have enough drama. And they don’t even get paid.

2- Even though I’ve identified my problem area -a chronically pessimistic mindset- I still don’t have the stategies to deal with it on my own.

3- I need a constant. Modelling opportunities decrease when school comes back, and friends disappear when it’s time for exams. Family doesn’t qualify as a constant; the mood of the household changes on a daily basis. 

4- I’m lonely as fuck. I need someone to talk to that isn’t a Shadow. Or a feline.

Why I can’t see a psychologist

1- I don’t have enough time to study, model, exercise, lie in bed and stare into space, cry, draw, write AND talk about my problems.

2- Finding a new place is difficult. Must be reasonably close to school/home, and if not, would have to provide taxi/bus vouchers for me to get home before dark. Only government practices would have those, and I imagine those practices only cater to those under eighteen. If I went to one of those, I’d have to go through the same process once again from the fourteenth of September.

3- Finding someone I can communicate with is worse. Cheerful people I can’t take seriously when I’m having a bad day. However, a sense of humour is necessary as well, considering how most of my communication consists of awkward jokes about my cynicism and self depreciation. Being open minded is compulsory, though why you’d choose a career in psychology if you weren’t is beyond me. Being able to discuss philosophy and ideas is an added bonus. And above all, they have to understand the situation with my parents, and what should and shouldn’t be said in front of them. Finding a human with all these qualities on the first go is difficult. And trial and error is very discouraging.

4- Three words: Duty. Of. Care. Granted, this only remains a problem till Monday September 14th 2015, but there’s the dilemma of surviving August, which seems to be a particular time where everything comes crashing down once again.

Just writing and writing and getting stuff out of my system. Have a nice day humans. 

Cat Madigan.

Haven’t signed off in a long time actually.

The Other Side of Anxiety

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This is new.

I’ve become so used to not feeling that I’d almost accepted that I’d never be able to feel anything else.

I inhale; and I take in the sensations of the cold, cleansing, sweet smelling air, the crashing cry of thunder, and the constant pounding of my blood through my veins. It’s more than that though, I can feel the Earth moving around me, surging around me, flying around me.

I want to run, I want to cry, I want to sing. I want to experience everything, pleasant or otherwise. I want to feel while I still can. It’s never felt so good, or so terrifying to be alive.

Self Conversation

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You’re being angsty and edgy again mate.

For some reason, you sound like Togami.

Whatever. Would you prefer me to sound like Kaya? Or Daniel?

Do whatever the fuck you want. You’re my head, after all.

So what are you doing out here?

Like you said, being angsty and edgy.

Why are you being angsty and edgy though?

Why the hell would you care?

I am you. And I’m not sure if you know yourself.

I do. Somewhat.

Then enlighten me.

I can’t finish my IT.

…that’s it?

No. Of course not, otherwise I wouldn’t be breaking down, would I?

Fine then. What else is there?

The fact that I can’t finish anything I start.

You finished one thing.

That doesn’t count and you know it.

I see. So we’re discounting anything involving mass destruction?

…yes.

Very well.

My point is, I can barely finish the things that interest me, let alone things that don’t even peak that interest.

And?

It makes me feel bad about myself. Because I want to be able to finish, but I just feel so…unmotivated.

In other words, your depression decides to add a few pounds so that you can’t do shit.

Precisely.

Then again, that could just be you making excuses.

That is another thing. I’m probably just lazy, and I just blame it on the mental illness.

Then get over it. Stop hating yourself. Give yourself proof that you’re not a bad person. Actually work.

Oh, I get it. You can’t. There is something physically weighing you down. You just can’t tell if it’s just mental illness or laziness.

…yeah.

Well you’ve got to get over it. Your future lies in the balance. This shit is year 12, make or break year.

I want to be able to…

…but you don’t think you can?

No.

Why not?

Because I can’t finish anything, even if I set my mind to it. I don’t know what I want to do with my life, fuck, I don’t even know what my morals are!

Ohhhh, I see. It’s not just self hate. It’s guilt.

For some part.

Togami? Ash?

Yup.

I don’t know what you see in them. Togami’s a self absorbed prick and you’ve seen your other suitor. If one can call him that.

Togami appears to believe that I can get better. It’s not a relationship anyway. As for Ash…yeah, I can’t make excuses. He’s a sleaze bag.

So it’s Ash that you’re guilty about, not Togami.

Yeah. Everyone hates him.

Except for you.

I hate him too. Just not enough to stop seeing him.

Are you going to sleep with him again?

No.

Good. Now stick to it. Don’t let him seduce you with Sword Art Online.

Shaddup.

But that’s not it.

Of course it’s not.

Jeezus. It never stops, does it? What is it with being seventeen? Does something change suddenly that lures in hot dudes? Hehee. Cat Madigan 101: How to pick up hot dudes.

Oi.

Okay. Togami I’ll let you off the hook for. Ash, you’re kinda a bad person for. So what about candidate number three?

…he’s insanely intelligent, sweet and not condescending. And probably isn’t at all interested in me in that way.

…he asked you to the fucking movies. On fucking VALENTINES DAY.

…it’s Valentines Day on Saturday?

Argh….yes. And you’ve got a fucking date.

…he’s probably called it off. I’m a nutcase, as he’s now well aware.

Whatever…I know where this is going. ‘Why would he be interested in me? I’m insane, I’m ugly, I’m retarded. He’s going to lose interest in me eventually.’

Of course.

So what? You’re going to let a potential relationship slide out of your grasp?

Look, if he’s not interested in me, he’s not interested in me. And chances are, even if he is, he’ll eventually decide that I’m not worth the trouble.

If that’s the case, then what are you alive for?

Hmm?

You’re insane, ugly and retarded, as you pointed out. You’re lazy, because you’re not finishing the work you need to. And you’ll never be desirable to anyone because of those things. So why are you still alive?

…because I don’t have the guts to kill myself.

Oh, I see. So you’re just a waste of space, taking up everyone’s time and oxygen. You’re disgusting.

I hate myself.

As you should.

But…

What?

…I hate you more.

I hate you, the voice in my head that reminds me how horrible I am. You’re the one thing standing in the way of me living a normal life. You’ve always been there, clinging to me like a chain around my neck. I know what you are…

You are that miserable illness that’s been eating away at me since I was six. You just sit there and whisper things to me and feast on the pain it produces. I hate you far more than I’ll ever hate myself.

So kill me.

I can’t.

Of course you can. All you need is a bullet in the brain to take away the pain. Heh, I should be a poet.

No. I’m going to live.

No you’re not.

I am. I’m going to live so that every day for the rest of my life, I can tell you to go fuck yourself.

Everything you said was true.

No. Everything you said was true. It could happen. But then again, it might not. But I think I’ll stay around and find out.

You’re not going to survive me.

I will. I’m stronger than you. Look at what I survived already.

Give it up. I’m the one you should fear.