This is a dark life I lead, love. Too dark for even me to see sometimes. Times like now. Where I'm left feeling lost and afraid. Frightened by any sudden movements. And then you move suddenly. This is what I'm trying to explain to you, love. Things like that are not my cup of tea. A long, slow, steady build up is probably the safer route. But everyone seems to just dump all their emotions on me at once. People meet me and instantly fall in deep love and deep hatred with me. So here you frighten me with your actions and your words...and yet I still fall into the same groove with you. It feels natural. More natural then I can handle. Too sudden. Too much, too fast. I am alone and I like it that way. A safe distance from anything that cuts in too much because that is where you can't hurt me. Where no one can. In my own corner, in my own chair, I sit and I watch you and I interact when I deem prudent. As long as I do this, the dark isn't scary.
So here I am in a dark corner, in a chair. But I hear you in the distance, so I stand up from my chair and the room blackens. I am forced into an uncomfortable reality. Harsh and daunting. You shook me to my core. FSM damn you. Though my eyes are open, my sight is limited, so I feel around with my hands into the seeming abyss. You ever so lightly breathe on my neck and I whip around to feel you aren't beside me. I creep forward, for fear of what I might bump into, and I hear you laugh in the distance. I turn to your laugh and inch towards the sound...More nothingness. Becoming frustrated, I do what I do best. I light a fire. So I open myself to you and as my chest reveals the fire inside, I see you scurry forward to bask in the glow, transfixed and hypnotized. I laugh, close my chest and stab you in the heart. You fall to the ground as blood drips down your chin.
I step over you, and the many that came before you, as I walk confidently back to my chair. Where I like it. With the mercy killing of most recent intruders, you, I am given a sense of direction. With ease I step, skip, hop, jump and gavotte back to my chair, over dead bodies of lovers past. I sit down, take a sip of my drink and sigh. Le sigh. Better, I say. I delve back into my Harry Potter book and curl up as the next contender comes knocking at the window.
Here comes the next contestant.
