The Clueless World

I have been trying to restrain myself to come out these days. I can not share the enthusiasm of the mortal goddess. She went on her usual gibberings, unknowingly hurting people, irritating friends to certain extent. She is, as always, not in her usual self. I am beginning to get tired of baby sitting her.

Last night, she spent the entire evening talking to her so called "friends" online, tending to their needs, their own chaos, pretending to be funny, when in fact she got her own trouble to take care of.

I went around the neighborhood, trying to get some air. I walked on the way home from the doctor's house. It was a long walk. I saw a lot of couples in the War Memorial. I looked for a lonesome soul like me. I wanted to crush someone. Not one in sight.

I told her to start focusing. We talked about lots of things. The things she told the doctor. She asked me if it was okay to tell him those things. I thought she did alright. She started to complain that her feet hurts, her little way of telling me that she does not want to talk anymore. I allowed her to pace slowly. She also needed this.

I loved those monuments in the park. The memories of the great war that Koreans had braved through. I wish I brought a camera. She, however, did not appreciate any of these. She sank back to her demented world. I did not realize that I was talking to myself for a long time.

There are times that I wanted to kill her to end all her sufferings, but I thought about her loved ones. I know that in these times, I am the only one she has. I have to be strong for her, time and again, I tell myself that. The sight of her dwindling slowly in melancholia is beginning to get into me. I talked to her a lot of times, asked her to tell me honestly what she feels. She just would smile and tell me she is okay. Here we go again. I am getting tired of this.

I felt sleepy, she however, wanted to stay in the Internet shop. I wonder if she is trying to find life's answer online. Or is she still hoping that he will talk to her?

Who is clueless here?

The Bipolar Victim

She was talking to a girlfriend online last night when she inadvertently told her that she is not fine. She really sucks in pretending. She has to admit she is sad, lonely and hurt. The friend tried to console her. It was not what she wanted to hear.

She knows the truth, the grievous truth. She can't, however, confront anyone. She decided to carry on as if she knows nothing. I cannot let her be this way forever. I have to do something.

The flirty one, the one who always want to be in control told her to call some friends or sleep with anyone on sight. Such vicarious advice that leads to nothing. I don't understand why she still talks to her. She hugs her as if they are one. I would rather she be alone, safe from the prying eyes of the mortals. She is safer in solitude.

There were times that I can only hold her hand while she suffers. I let her write whenever she wants, not insisting anymore for my right to scribble my thoughts. I let her do with whatever she wants to do while I satiate my consciousness by watching her on the sideline.

The lustful man kept calling her, reminding her of the times that they spent together. I can only chuckle whenever the goddess ask him: "What really happened?" She had no idea. None. I made sure she will never remember any.

A friend advised her to consult a psychiatrist. She does not want to. I talked to her about it, too. Lots of times I did. She is suffering from bipolar disorder. She does not want to admit it. She wants to continue living in a distressful state and told me that she can manage alright. I never believe a thing she say. I must not. She does not even believe herself.

Even further, she was found to have selective amnesia according to the mind doctor. Poor girl had suffered so much trauma with that aborted rape. Yet she kept telling me that she's over the drama. She is not! How can I make her see that?

She begins to spend more and more time thinking how to kill herself. I do not want her that way. I never wanted her to be this melancholic.

I have to be strong for her.

Watch her carefully, I must.

The Feral Goddess

It's harder to control her these days. She has gone to some kind of rage. Given a chance, she will probably lay everyone. It's a good thing she can not say no to the intoxicating drinks that I entice her with. Those mortal drinks render her powerless.

I hate her even more. I should be happy with her "little achievements". She has become bolder, more assertive, less submissive. However, there is this annoying animosity that my brain toys against all these ferocious activities she is doing. And she is sadder than ever, which works to my advantage. The lonelier she gets, the stronger I become.

Pity, she can not recall anything. I made her do that. In the heat of passion, I would take over, crashing these pitiful lustful creatures with my claws. I had to be there. These animals pound on her like hungry demons. , fight back. They thought it was pleasure. They thought it was part of the game. Men. How could they be so stupid?

I would rather she be with another girl. Skin so soft, so tender to the touch, so soothing to the senses, that is what she needs. If she chooses to be with a girl, I would make her remember everything. There will be no bruises, no marks.

I need to perfect my moves. I can feel my near demise. I can not let her do that.