One Minute in the Mind of Lucrecia
"Lucrecia, are you okay?"
"I'm fine, Vincent."
"Are you sure you're okay?"
"I'm fine, Vincent."
A few seconds' silence. And then:
"Vincent, stop looking for damage! Stop assuming I have some deep psychological trauma that only you can heal, only you with your possessive 'niceness' and desire for control and attention-seeking by pretending I'm the one that needs your attention when you're an emotionally abusive creep!"
"I... I was only trying to help..."
"No, you were disguising emotional blackmail as altruism! You must think I walk around with my eyes closed! I don't need your help! Get the hell out of my life!"
"I... I was only concerned... I swear to God, Lucrecia, I-"
"That's shit and you know it! Why in heaven's name would I listen to the word of a Turk?"
"But... it's me... it's Vincent... it's different with us... it's... I'm a different person when I'm doing my job; I have to be, I-"
"I don't want to hear it. Just go."
"I... you... you're beautiful. I just want you to know that. God help me, I shouldn't be saying anything, I should just shut up right now, I should learn but I just want you to, I mean, I just, I mean, you, no, I, no, there's... dammit!"
He practically ran out of the room. Nearly in tears. My heart wanted to snap, but I didn't let it. Wallowing in self-pity wouldn't do any good. The words were good for him. They'd keep him away. It wasn't fair to inflict myself on him. Someone as twisted as me would only corrupt him, break him apart. Look at how easily I'd torn at him like that! It was always so easy to see other people's insecurities, because I had them in buckets. I'd even been faintly embarrassed for him as his face had crumpled. He looked like a child. Like a naive, sensitive little child who'd yet to so much as encounter the real world.
Oh God, I loved him.
I have to do it, you see. I don't have a choice. Sometimes I slip up. I start to enjoy being around people too much, I start to let them catch a glimpse of my real personality- and then they recoil as though struck by lightning. My brain is full of snakes. Occasionally, a well-meaning fool- Gast, Vincent- comes along, and thinks they have me all worked out. Thinks I just have to 'feel good about myself', and the world will be filled with sunshine (ugh, I'm such a cow to be talking about people I supposedly love like this, but what the hell, it's the truth and they don't understand and I'm so alone and I have to be and they don't understand they couldn't withstand it's for their own good it's for them it's not for me it's for them it's the only decent thing I can do in this life so I'll do that, if I can't do anything else, I'll do that, my one tiny sacrifice). They don't realise there's nothing to feel good about. I am sociopathic. I am cyclothymic, emotionally abusive, stick-a-label-on-it and call it 'Lucrecia' because I am bloody insane. Vincent is too beautiful for me. He doesn't deserve me. Some people have a light, and I don't know if it's naivety or decency or kindness or what, but I don't have it and I just poison everyone I touch, that's what I am, I'm a poison and I get savage pleasure when I rip people to pieces and then I want to kill myself and I can't tell anyone because that's manipulative and pathetic and I'll keep my self-respect (respect for what, pray tell?) because it's all I have, I won't crumble on him, I won't, I won't be the psycho cow that everyone runs away from and gossips about because she acts insane and then asks for pity for it while doing nothing to fix the problem. I know what the problem is, it's me, and as a result I cannot be happy about being me without being bloody retarded. I cannot fix me, because the problem isn't how I behave, it's how I think, how I see the world, the patterns I make, the filters I use, and if I change it I'll get torn apart by someone who's more screwed up than I am because I'll have to be as naive as all the people who don't realise that there are people like me, who don't understand us, who think we need a hug, and oh, Vincent's hugs. It shouldn't have to be a problem, normality is relative, but I say things and people are shocked and I'm heartless and cold and a monster, I'm just a monster, I want to die but I selfishly cling to life, and then I wonder if maybe the point is to be the insane genius that fixes things for everyone, and it's okay, and I'm not really mad, everyone else is, but then Gast was happy.
And then I don't even realise it but bam! I'm attached to someone and then when they hurt themselves, instead of a generalised feeling of cold detachment, it's pain and shock that lances through me, and I realise I love them. I still remember it with Vincent; he was fiddling with a paperclip; it sprang back and cut his finger; he flinched and cursed. And I actually felt my eyes widen and my voice get higher as I gasped, "Are you okay?" in a single breath, pure instinct. It was like I was observing myself through the eyes of a stranger (a stranger with the perspective of a biologist, ha-ha. I suppose I'm not the most imaginative lunatic).
And my first thought was, "Oh shit".
My second was, "I think I'm going to cry".
My third was, "I... I'm actually human..."
And he was completely oblivious.
I don't know where I stand with him. I feel like we're playing games and I'm out of my depth and I'm going to end up hurting him because the only other option is to pretend to be strong, and I can't do that if I'm going to be in a relationship with someone; I can't lie to them like that, I can't trick them; it's not fair. But it's also common sense to run a mile from a neurotic, possessive cow like me, and it's what I'd do if the positions were reversed. I can't inflict myself on him. Or anyone, except in a superficial capacity, but I'm not interested in superficial relationships. They're boring. And it's not like he's even mentioned or even considered a relationship, this is all me, all projection, he probably hates me, he's probably just humoring me, he probably finds me unbearable, I can't blame him, I am unbearable, I...
I just... the more I'm around him, the more I want to be around him. It's so dangerous. He makes me feel like I'm not beyond hope. But that's leeching, pathetic; that's not love. Sometimes, when I'm feeling strong, I think maybe it can be okay. Maybe I can start a conversation and have a laugh, keep things light. And then I don't see it as a temptation, but just as normality; why shouldn't I have a conversation with a friend? I forget that the rules are in place for a reason. From the 'take a tablet every morning' to the 'exercise for ten minutes every evening' to the 'breathe in through the nose and out through the mouth' to the 'avoid Vincent wherever possible'- they're there to protect other people. Namely, Vincent.
And then sometimes I wonder if he's broken like me, but that's so selfish. It's projection. He is a Good Person. I am a Bad Person. It is really that simple. I just have to remember it. It's so hard when I'm living a day or a week as a normal person. I forget that I'm warped at the core. I think I deserve the things that healthy people deserve. But life isn't fair, and I can't be 'fixed', so the only thing I can do is bear the loneliness and lock myself away for everyone's good. I should kill myself. I should really kill myself. I wish I was brave enough. No I don't. Oh, I don't know. I don't know anything.
It's so cold.