Automathon. Catatonic. Barely conscious.
I’m idle. I’m here without being, even when I started taking over again last night.
Thumb flickers slowly over the ever-smooth flesh of pink nipples, hands cupping the small, rounded breasts, squeezing them. Idle. It feels good, but I feel nothing.
What brings me back to myself is that final scene from the movie Marie Antoinette. It’s very simple, to be honest: the master chambers of the King and Queen of France, half-trashed and discreetly blood-stained. But I see it, in absolute silence, and it disturbs me. Even royalty can be ravished. Even the powerful can be violated.
I feel helpless, and memories start playing again.
My room. That room. The blood…the meaning. It hurts, but I can’t pinpoint why. Or rather, I can but don’t want to.
Tonight I want to be a queen. Marie Antoinette herself.
I was with Fae today, submerged in this catatonic state, the awareness of her hand, lead by mine, caressing her being the only thing to keep us from not existing. We ate and slept for most of the day. And God, I slept like the angels today. I dreamt of soft clouds and clear seas and stars and peace. Or maybe I didn’t dream, but I slept peacefully. And then I dyed her hair black and painted her nails red and made her me again. Fara doesn’t exist by herself, just like I wouldn’t exist if I wasn’t here. Fara and Amanda are not real, but Faramanda is. Complex as it may sound, it’s really very simple. Ask any Host.
I pick on my wounds, scratch them until they bleed again.Last night, I had an epiphany. It came as we were watching tv, staring transfixed as a woman choked her sister in law in a twisted form of erotic asphyxiation that, for reasons unknown, turned me on more than the real, “safe” thing. Yesterday I wanted to kill, and I knew exactly whom. Yesterday I opened a cut over a scar by letting Mark bring my father, and it hurts. He still hurts. But what hurts the most is that I’ll never really know why.
In a few hours Dee and Mark will be here, and I will face Matthew again.
And I’ll sleep peacefully again for the first time in 35 years.
I pick on my wounds, scratch them until they bleed again.Last night, I had an epiphany. It came as we were watching tv, staring transfixed as a woman choked her sister in law in a twisted form of erotic asphyxiation that, for reasons unknown, turned me on more than the real, “safe” thing. Yesterday I wanted to kill, and I knew exactly whom. Yesterday I opened a cut over a scar by letting Mark bring my father, and it hurts. He still hurts. But what hurts the most is that I’ll never really know why.
In a few hours Dee and Mark will be here, and I will face Matthew again.
And I’ll sleep peacefully again for the first time in 35 years.
Tomorrow, I'll become a Killer Queen.
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