Murder she wrote.

I have come to consider the darkness to be a friend, this black dog that comes and goes, always leaving hair that clogs up my mind even when the creature is ausent, its own form of love letters, hidden in nooks and crevices.

It’s ironic as now I have adopted a black dog and she sheds a LOT of hair but she brings laughter and bruises to my life, headbutts made of love and overexcitement, it made me think about my other black dog, the one who pads silently beside me, inside me, everywhere, anywhere it can reach… I used to think it was only there to hurt me but I wonder now; is the black dog cursed too? 
I have created this creature in my mind, this animal that has grown and changed along side me, now a majestic wolfish dog, with shining eyes and paws so big they look goofy, as if he never grew into them… His eyes are sad, almost as if he tries to help with his presence but is cursed with only pain…
Even then, there are nights I hug him, accepting the fate, embracing his prickly fur, his breathing the only thing I can hold onto as his breathing is mine, he is me, we are one… Aren’t we? It’s all in my mind, this beautiful creature, the pain, the darkness… How can it only be in someones mind yet drive their whole life?
I read the other day something like how shocking it was that the brain named itself and not only did it do that but in every language.
When you stop to think about it, just for a second, stop reading and actually think about that. The brain named itself.
I wonder sometimes if my brain is mine or I belong to my brain and it enjoys torturing me. My psychologist is worried I separate things in my mind too much, he says all these people that scream at me, all these thoughts are mine. How can I hate myself so much? How can I be fighting myself? A war inside me, like a book, a thousand characters so detailed in every way, they are me.
I killed some, finally they are silent. I told him I got them to leave yet I still can’t get the bloodstains off the carpet floor of that room… The guilt looms and people still wonder what happened… We are better off, I mean of course, I am better off now, but the blood… It still smells like pennies and it won’t go away, no matter how many airfresheners I put in there. I even created a cleaning lady to help, she got tired in ten minutes and took a rest like I do with my house. It’s too messy in here, up here inside and out here around me… How can I be organised without knowing who I am..?
It’s like trying to get to know an onion, each layer looks the same but is different, they all make you cry though.
I’m unsure about myself, I used to know who I was, or pretended to be I guess…
Now I’m torn, happiness is infront of me and those people are shouting again, telling me to fuck it up before it disappears, it will, there’s no IF for these people, happy endings are myths, lies so they can hurt you more later after you believe it. They taunt me, it would be so easy to break this beautiful happiness I have infront of me, they lead me to the pieces, the flimsy parts I am working so hard to strengthen and they push at them with their tiny feet, swinging from my scaffolding, using it as a swing, their feet the wrecking ball.
I picture my partners face, his freckles and lines, how his eyes changed since we met, the beautiful sparkle that they now have, his smile contagious.
Happiness is so fragile.
They hand me the tools to destroy him every day, these people in my mind, sometimes I swear the black dog comes to my rescue, making me tired and sad when they want me to drink, to stray, to fight. I can see him biting their necks and the tools falling from their hands and me along with them, almost welcoming the black wave crashing over me.
I don’t know anymore what is me and what is my illness, what I decide and what’s decided for me.
Whoever is cheering for me up there, I love you.
cropped-octapus-eye-ocean

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Fall back on me…

She slipped, or had she been tripped..?
Her knees wet and burning, she felt the liquid run down her skin where the stockings had caught on whatever had taken her down and scraped her skin.
All she knew was that she had to get up. The world around her was noisy but it felt far away, spots infront of her eyes, her heart strangely calm… The darkness felt both soothing and possesive, pushing down on her like a physical weight, like a blanket; about to smother her.
She tried to get up but the ground was sharp, like needles, something tore at her skin, she tried to yelp but her tongue felt glued to the roof of her mouth…
Her dress, once the shade of a pink roses petal in the morning light was now more like a dead flower and for a moment her mothers face came into mind, angry at her for ripping her tights when she was in primary school. As if that mattered now… She smiled, dizzy, as something pulled her up, then pulled back as she realised the creature had claws, not hands, ripping at the collar of her dress, trying to get to her pale skin.
But she was up now. She started to push her way through the bushes and trees, all of them tugging and tearing at her hair, her face, she could almost feel them in her mind… Scratching at what she was.
The air around her felt thick and her lungs could hardly take it in, her chest rising and falling uselessly, the oxygen refusing to cooperate.
The darkness didn’t calm her anymore, the spots took on colours, the noise became louder as something caught her, pushed her against something rough and grating and all she could imagine were those tights she ripped falling over in the playground…
“I’m so sorry mama” she whispered as something pulled at her underwear, ripped at her clothes the noise turned to music and the music turned to a loud consistent ringing noise, her eyes tried to focus on the beast that wanted to devour her… This beast that would be her end, she wanted to see it’s face, before she died.
She wasn’t sure how she knew she was about to die but she was sure of it. If she did nothing to stop it.
She tried to concentrate her eyes, but a blow to the face knocked her sideways as she felt a burning, ripping sensation deep inside her, she could feel the blood running down her legs, she could feel the blood vessels bursting and forming purple marks on her porcelain skin, she could not see anymore, her eyes useless but she could smell it. A familiar smell… This beast, she had come across it before, but how? She had never been into a forest before, this must be a dream she reasoned with herself.
Surely she was dreaming, in her apartment, in her bed, her best friend next door in the other room…
But the noise wouldn’t stop, and the claws wouldn’t give in digging, she felt it pressing into her, it’s teeth sank into her shoulder and its tongue forced itself into her mouth, denying her access to the scream that died in her throat.
They were purple and silver and black in stripes those tights… The tights she ripped when she fell down the stairs and hit her head and her knee. She grasped them to her as if they were the most cherished item in the world. When her mother came to collect her she wept; not for her knee that needed stitches, not for the headache or the scratches, she cried, her shoulders shaking, knowing her mother would be disappointed in her for breaking her new tights, specially brought from England for her as a present.
She tried to say sorry, she remembered, but her mother just smiled and hugged her, her eyes full of tears, the fright much more important than some tights she promised to fix.
They never were fixed those tights…And she missed them, she wished she had them on now… As if they’d save her.
CONCENTRATE ALEX.
Was she Alex still? She couldn’t remember but the name sounded familiar, she could imagine someone shouting it at her, in fact, they were… But it was so far away…

The beast turned her around, yanking her hair, she felt it as it came out at the root.
There was no pain anymore… Just cold. And those damn tights.