673. Melancholy, 2
Different polarities rip my heart in half as I run my way for an escape.
Instincts throw violent death at my justified pursuers.
Other instincts manage their best to prevent these gruesome outcomes.
Right now, I don’t know, I can’t say whether murder is justified. But either way, my heart is in too much pain, saying yes and no.
With such uncertainties in my balance and between my hands, I’m afraid of what I’ll live with tomorrow.
Bullets graze me again.
I see my past in them, adding to most of the injury. I should have fled farther, as soon as I noticed them. Maybe. I don’t know.
I will have the rest of my life to ponder about that thread of fate and chaos. Whether I chose the best or the easiest; whether I made a mistake again and forgive myself or not.
I can’t focus.
I can imagine myself ripping the flesh of those coming at me.
It’s a dreadful sign that I am right now picturing myself a scene of what could be.
My fingers are changing, growing longer slightly and sharpening.
It’s not admitted, it’s unwillingly, but a part of me is preparing for butchery.
In this awful context, I want to abandon all pretence. I want to say it’s another part of me, to give it a name to distance myself a little from these impulses or desires.
Because we don’t live and think only on the instant in civilised countries, I can’t just allow myself to be swallowed by these instincts. I know. I ache. And I’m terrified of what I’ll manage to be or fail to.
~
I attempt to fly away again. I gather the strength and power into soon to be bright light.
A big bullet rips through me again. I lose focus. I blow myself away more than I lift off and away properly. After a few hundred metres of arcing in the air, I’m about to crash land somewhere further along the hills, not in the intended direction.
I manage to blow some more light to soften my landing arguably, but I’m not unscathed. I’m feeling weary already.
Dark thoughts catch up with me, before the vehicles and humans do. Maybe it’s not that new for humans to hunt down others, or any danger or enemy really. But it’s against me now, and it feels especially unfair.
Me and the stained clothes I wear resume running away, now a little hopelessly.
I don’t want to kill them...
I don’t want to get drunk of that bitter sensation of absolute power over others. Even if, or especially because it echoes also with my frustration in my warmest ends.
As an ogre, I could just do whatever I want with them...
I want to vomit with what my inner heart can think or feel.
The beast awakens now that my beautiful social ideals falter.
Help me mother...
As I run desperately for an escape, a vehicle on high wheels passes me and stops loudly ahead of me, barring my way and forcing me to halt.
A man and a woman with modern rifles pointed at me jumped down. They’re yelling words I don’t understand at me, as they already are stepping closer. They’re going to shoot me down where I stand.
I tear up as I close my eyes.
I open one of these doors that scare me the most.
And darkness flows out.
~
I wonder what they saw.
Either I simply disappeared before their eyes, most likely dropping empty clothes where I just was.
Or they felt like a nightfall abruptly fell over them, and nothing akin to light existed around them anymore.
I didn’t want to abandon my body, but I didn’t want to die.
I passed myself through the door entirely, or the door abruptly through me. I forced the entire translation of myself, with all the inherent risks implied...
Lost in a dark ocean now, but aware I’m still on Earth, continuing to run away.
Although now, if a shape I must still have in reality, I know what it will appear to be. The translucent dark shape of a normal daiûa.
How many times have I gone through. Will this be the one too many times? The one where I can’t manage to return, will it be today?
I’m scared. I run away, mostly oblivious now to whatever is happening in reality.
At least... At least, I didn’t kill them...
I didn’t bring murder, rape and violence pointlessly. I still feel sad and awful just having these thoughts, but not as bad as if I had let them free.
I might, I hope, be able to feel better about who I am because of that self-control later on.
I wish I could have become a kind woman like my mother...
Maybe in my environment, in my life, that will never be possible...
I think I’ve been like her for a while, whilst I was raising my daughter.
I miss you Nok...
Please come and help me before I fail...
You may be so young it pains me to see how much faster than normal you’ve had to grow. But right now, if I’m about to fail, I believe you’re the only one able and willing to help me.
Please.
May the nights blossom beautifully.
Help me.
~
My shady silhouette is pierced by more bullets.
I barely feel them as they pass through me. I barely see or hear what’s happening outside of me.
My body is essentially collapsed into quarks, muons and neutrinos, kept in separated stasis where they almost should be. I’m dislocated entirely and immaterial, but ready to reappear at will when I want it to be, with also a picture in seed in case I have to sacrifice my body further for power, consuming its energy for an immediate purpose.
I’m less in danger from them... But I’m still mortal, uncertain and deadly afraid.
My shape keeps me in contact with reality at a minimal level. But I wasn’t skilled enough to just be, and remain entirely invisible to them.
So I have a daiûa shape, as one last thread of humanity. I’m scared to lose it.
I’m scared to cut that rope to reality and be lost for good on the other side.
To save me. To save them...
Otherwise, I’m afraid, terribly afraid of what I’ll do to them.
But I’m not virtuous enough to make the leap away for them.
I’m not selfless enough to throw myself in this ominous otherworld just for their sake, at the risk of losing all that I’ve been and am.
As much as I’m afraid of either end of this tunnel I’ve escaped into...
I chose to take the higher risk for them, and prefer to return toward reality.
~
