Thursday, January 7, 2010

It won’t change a thing to want it any other way.

Shame - Stabbing Westward

It won’t change a thing to want it any other way.

I wanted to cut off my arm. Anything to break free and release me from this prison. Chained. Shackled. The mind wanders and wrestles with logic to understand. There is no understanding this madness.

“Don’t you understand? You’re scaring me! Hurting me!” my scream echoes across the empty room. “Can’t you see what you’re doing? You enjoy this, don’t you?”

This one misunderstands me. My Kristen. She thinks I want to hurt her. How could she possibly think such a thing? Sitting here. I can see her squirming. Maybe I’m a little intense. Perhaps the restraints were a bit much. But there’s no other way to make her see. I love her and there’s nothing to stop that. My gifts are special for her. Can’t she see how much I adore her?

There’s no one else that could ever understand you like me. Why fight our love, just go along with it and relax. We could be so happy.

That was the latest of many notes addressed to me. Simple notes neatly placed at the base of my front door. It’s rather frightening to know I’m a prize to be won. Game to be captured. Unable to elude him. Each note growing more and more intense. Alienated and alone. Michael’s gifts aren’t what I would call special. Despite the letters and what he refers to Love, this is far beyond any kind of empathetic situation. Last week he sent a dozen roses, along with twelve dead birds saturated in black paint. The police lack the ability to recognize the scope of the situation. Lover’s lament. According to them, this is simply an unrequited love that will merely dissolve with time.

You’ll never know how it feels. To love something so purely.

Love. Wanting nothing more than to smash it between your hands to keep it from getting away. The attempt to trap love ferociously as it tries to escape capture. She doesn’t even care that I’m here waiting. Watching. Treasuring her every breath while she sleeps.

Michael! Don’t do this! Please stop. I’ll do whatever you want,” my sobs escape as I watch him pacing in the other room. The small doorway leaves a three foot window of vision. My former love paces methodically in the other room wildly. He’s removed his shirt and walking barefoot in a pair of torn jeans. Head to toe he’s covered in blood. Mine? No. He hasn’t gotten to me yet. From the looks of it, he’s hurt himself. The blood appears to come from several flesh wounds that cover his arms and chest. There’s no escape. Chained to the radiator.

Cruel heartless creature. Teasing me with your invitations. Begging me to love you. All I did was listen to my heart. Why can’t you just follow yours?

Too many people interfering in our love; Family, friends, and those damn police. They don’t understand what it’s like to be apart from you. I can’t live without you. Am I real? Are you real? We can not exist separately. This is torment. There was no other way. These deaths are necessary. I can hear you in my mind. Your pain. Right now as I stand her watching you cry it’s completely agonizing. I don’t want it to be this way. Can’t you hear me comforting you?

Violently he’s cut through nearly a dozen people. Doorman; co-workers; neighbors. Anyone standing in between us. He claims it was all for the best. All I can to is guess what comes next. The notes leave mental traces in my mind. I try to recollect the bits and pieces before he turns his attention to me. In my memory each of the notes becoming more and more unsettling than the previous. The last being the moment I knew things had reached a true point of sickness.

You’re making me do this you little Bitch! I didn’t want to kill them. I don't have a choice. It has to be this way.

Love doesn’t love. How can she not see how much I care? Kristen, every day you leave the building my heart melts at the sight of you. The mornings you jog in the park are filled with an overwhelming happiness that I can not contain. Where did things go wrong? How can I obsess without you returning my affections? You want me here. I know you do. It’s so very clear to me now. Each night I can see you brush your hair exactly twenty-nine times. Twenty-five when you want to let me down. An open window is a welcomed invitation to watch you sleep. When it’s closed, I fear you are quite mad at me. Or perhaps disappointed? I try to be true and come every day. We can never be apart. I will find a way.

My captor makes his way toward the door. Slowly coming towards me with the gun. All I can do is scream. “Get away from me! If you loved me you wouldn’t do this.” But it’s too late. I can see by the look in his eyes, he’s gone. There’s nothing left to reason with. A blank catatonic stare that has no soul left behind it. Carefully his left hand rises to caress my face. I flinch and tremor at the very thought of his touch. He drops to his knees before me and begins to sob hysterically. His head bows forward and lies against the ground. The hidden right hand makes an appearance as his body rocks passionately in anguish. Carefully nestled within its grasp is an 8mm. “Michael,” I lean in and whisper, “please?” He stops moving and listens through his tears. “It doesn’t have to be this way.”

“You’re right. It doesn’t have to be this way. Not anymore,” slowly he raises the gun. “If I can’t have you, I…” Close my eyes and wait for this madness to end. I won’t watch him do this. This has come to an impasse.

The gun sounds. My eyes are closed. I’m still alive. It's over. There’s nothing left to say. He didn’t have to…
It won’t change a thing to want it any other way.

I'm a little nervous on this one. I'd been toying with this 'stalker' idea since October. Did some research back then and a little more today. There's some really bad stuff OUT THERE! The phone tapping, GPS tracking, low jacks on the car, the emails, computer bugs all to keep tabs on a person are out there. People do unspeakably creepy things that I will never be able to understand.  This is definitely something that could be more than what it is. It's a really twisted idea and of course IT'S MOI, so I just had to go there. Understand that I've had real-life stalkers, it's not fun, but I wanted to go there with a piece. Not entirely happy with the end result as I did want it to go a bit deeper and I'm holding back. I'm hesitating because the notion of it all makes me really sick inside to think about. Yet I'm still sort of completely FASCINATED at the same time.  Please ask if you don't grasp. There's really no rhyme or reason. Nevertheless you'll just have to keep a sense of humor with me on this.  Hope it is appreciated! Enjoy. kisses. m.

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