I need to rewind a little. liquidize 6 years worth of blah into a few lines and let it go, way below.. maybe it would be clearer.. maybe.
“one foot skipping delightedly in a fairytale (…)
my other foot sinking in a spiral of absurd hate…”
“bipolar bird”, Magnificent eve
..the ever growing- ever meaningless encounters- with Randomness herself.
at least, i had two “successful” fantasies, and he was the third, and the last. and i have no authority to predict my own future.. where are you?
i must stress that it was always about me. and my fantasy.
“me. me me.”
and so “she” had had three love stories.
all ending the same way.. with a blessing in disguise..
a bleeding heart, desertion, from either side, of “friends” in quotations, and a couple who were true.
“once upon a time there was a boy. and then he met me.”
with all three she WAS a different person. not herself -which she dislikes the company of. and that is when he came a-knocking.
the truth and the whole truth is such:
Juliana was already diagnosed with bi-polar “disorder”. and as Dr. Moustache had once, so absurdly said to her: “these are your best friends for life”: Lamictal and Seroquel. And she got addicted to them. well, eventually..
“what?
what are you talking about? i am fine! i’m happy! why are you bothering me?
what? why?! nooo! don’t drug me..
what the hell do you want from me?
you don’t want me depressed, you don’t want me happy!
what DO you want!
what do you want from me…. what do you…
don’t kill my god..”
she flatlines…
humanoid robot is born
“i’m synthetic, you see?
sorry, i answer only to the father”
she was programmed to save a failing GOA. 1.6 out of a 4.
Goal is a sensible round 3.
she was dictatored by her remorse for her father..
it was alright. it was. that was the only thing that mattered. she was happy to not feel anything.
“good morning! repent, atone… make him proud… good night!
good morning! repent, atone… make him proud… good night!
good morning! repent, atone… make him proud… good night!”
she really knew nothing more of anything
her mind was a complete and curious vacuum
she got used to it synthetically
had a crush on a pretty pill
she was a ghost swimming in a jar,
a post-it saying: for sale
i think
it was almost a year before she suddenly heard a knock. a weak echo in the complete and curious vacuum of her mind..
because that knock had magic in it, the kind she computed and remembered, a call to escape mentally.
she got up and opened the door.
it was familiarly strange.. enchanting..
“i let the next one in.. maybe this would be it”
he was her. that is all she ever wanted..
somehow, the whispers of his breath and the idea of what he could offer her, penetrated the armour.. the shield of ‘Lamaquiel’..
.. they sat in his car, after her late night lectures in 18th Century English Literature, they sat for an hour or so, both fearing the forever impending toll of her Nokia.. fearing the contact assigned ringtone of her father..
“don’t sound the William-Tell!
i’m on my way home..
have to copy notes and such and stuff and.. had an accident.. and..
the professor, he talks a lot.. and.. supermarket. need to gas up..”
time and place panic aside,
they sat, both of them, sweaty and mesmerised.. both of them in his dark car. jackets and scarves, and the rain melting on the windows.
i am not sure if there was rain- at all, at any given time of their “relationship”/fantasy..
“it was winter. in a city that rarely sees winter. and he was like me.”
they met in his car. around 8:10 pm, three times a week maybe. and she used to love winter then. and snow. the Norwegian winter-forests under the full moon was where she had planned to go- with her father’s support and encouragement… probably the first and the last,
and this was, probably, the main reason why they ceased, her and the boy i mean. perhaps. the impending end.. perhaps that is why he grew monstrous. and perhaps it is the same reason why he had turned dark yet again.
…and she left to Sweden instead of England, instead of Norway who ignored her all together.. it hurt. but she packed her bags and left, for good. to the second best fantasy-place. close enough.
listen.. they never had closure. this is very important for the story. no closure, and masses of unfulfilled everythings..
in that car they sat. quietly.
Anathema and beating hearts. passion and stupid rain.
“the lust was overwhelming..almost physically visible-
our instinctual energies dying to intertwine with each other.
and it was taboo.
such an ordinary world. i cannot not miss it..”
it is mesmerising.. to look at your soul mate.
he appears randomly in men i know through other men. 3 times. maybe four.
“it was fascinating- to the both of us..”
a third person watching could not avert from or disparage the incredible, Fascinated gazing the two drowned each other in.
the smiles of disbelief..
the telepathic monologues…
the instinct to survive on full alert
the taboo fantasy- that never would transpire…
it was all wrong.. the time was wrong.. the place was wrong.. the future was wrong.. and the past was lagging behind like a hag with a promise.
next, the usual occurred,
the hag caught up with her
the random love of her life grew cold and died behind his real mask,
enter: doom.
it was hard for her.
it was especially hard to continue the GPA crusade, while feeling raped of “immortality” yet again..
i think she raised the dosage by herself. taken more than Dr. Speedy Gonzales had prescribed..
and should she in a horrific panic realise she had skipped a pill or two somehow… she would take more than necessary in order for her thoughts to stay mute. she had almost reached zero. almost..
Well she graduates. 7 wasteful years of education. but the last two have miraculously been enough to make up for it.
3.4/4
“Father, are you proud of me?
i did it.. for you.. with a surprise bonus of 0.4..”
oh, no pat on the back then..
repent, atone… make him proud…
Father is proud and whisks her off to far far away land, where she will be happy and accepted. an ordinary world. no taboos.
well, she eventually stops the Lamaquil treatment, she’s married. they make a baby, and she gets the whole package.. she is all that.
***
sooner or later, 5 years onwards, she goes through a well-earned, horribly impending spiritual “emergency”.
“i have read the literature, i know what i should do.
i welcomed the mania with arms wide open,
lit a rocket swearing to enjoy the roller coster with arms in the air
losing the fears with screams of exhilaration…”
and she had, i am proud of her.. but there were lots of agonisingly slow climbs.. the higher the climb, the deathlier the free falls.
her mission was to understand what went on in her life. why did she block it out..
why the amnesia..??
and why is she so thirsty…
why did she know that She had to wake up.
She relearnt who she was before the first fall, labeled the accident as “dumb bitch -had no clue”
*
yet, for the past month, she has been aware of the now. and she followed the lights. and she opened up. and answered those who talked to her. through her profile. and she went through a few past relationships with them, and talked it over, with the purpose of remembering who she was, what music she was currently listening to, what was she like.. who were her other friends at the time.
what-year-was-this..
“paint me a portrait of myself.”
soon she is healed enough to start her journey.. she remembers quite enough to recognise the fears she has to confront..
“i’m good.. I’m more me than i ever was.. i am writing… i am learning..”
all is good. Juliana is waking up…
*
one morning she wakes up and starts to get ready for work..
tea, smoke, check the cyber mailbox.
one new message:
“i love u… not a single day has passed by without me thinking of u…i know u will never be mine…but i have to say this”
what do you do? go!
i was with you because of lack of choice. it’s not personal.
