Love and Cuts

I1

“So why don’t you tell me where the cuts on your legs came from.” He asked calmly, interlacing his fingers over crossed legs.2

“I put them there.” A dark truth.3

“Why would you do that?” I shrugged shyly to this question, almost embarrassed. 4

“You don’t know?”5

“I did it once, just fucking around,” a pause. “To test a theory.” 6

“Hmmm” He nodded, making it clear he wasn’t judging me.7

“It felt good, ya know? A kind of high, it makes the pain go away.” I continue. 8

“Good?” He wasn’t hiding his skepticism as well this time. “It didn’t hurt?”9

“That’s the thing. Most people spend their entire lives avoiding pain and seeking pleasure. They’re afraid of it, they feel it and shrink. While when they find pleasure, they feel it and bask, they accept it fully.” He sat patiently, just listening. This is what I wanted, why I came, so I kept going. “That is human nature, that is how we live. But there’s a certain power in accepting pain, even cold, or fear; it loses its daunting effects and gains new properties.”10

“And you learned all of this by cutting yourself?”11

“No, I was walking through crowds of people, all shivering in the cold. Utterly rejecting it, and paying for it with every second. I myself was doing the same, the cold spread pain and misery over every point of my physical being, this then torturing my mental one. My body could feel the enveloping cold with no emotion. All it can do, after all, is just send the information to my brain. It was then that I realized it was my mind causing me to suffer, and not the cold itself. My mind interpreting the signals and judging them as bad, urging me desperately to escape it, it was then that I decided not to think of the cold as bad, just as cold.”12

I could have kept going, maybe forever, but he looked at his watch, twice, three times. I knew I was out of time, but I wasn’t done. I never am. This is how it ended; this is how it always ended. He offered nothing. He never did, I just wanted his ear. So we exchanged short goodbyes; I’d see him again.13

II14

When I return to my apartment, cold and dark, a red light permeates the darkness; countless messages; I won’t bother. Grabbing a beer and turning on the television, I return to my usual spot on the couch to brood in the cheap beer I am holding.15

A ring, another, many more. Doubtless the same person leaving the messages, obviously not satisfied with the cold machine who would hear her cries when I won’t. 16

As she professes her love, and longing for a break of the estrangement that I have plagued her with, I begin to fantasize. 17

It began in grade school. She was tall blonde and full of life, the subject of one of my many heart-aching crushes. Of course, the sentiment wasn’t returned. Story of my life. 18

Later in high school we were friends, nothing more, sometimes less, both members of a circle whose main occupation was smoking weed. There were no feelings, I had more plausible interests.19

The drama in which I am entwined began months ago, a few years after high school. My clique had managed to stay in touch, despite all of us having gone to various schools across the east coast, which was thanks to the glories of AIM, Facebook, and frequent returns to the small town of our childhood.20

I was home for Thanksgiving, a much needed break. This was one of the few times I was home during my friends frequent school vacations, so I quickly reunited with the old gang.21

Her name was Kathy Bridges, she was as beautiful as ever. With long blonde hair and a nose with just the right amount of prominence to be exactly what I find most appealing; something like Uma Thurman. She had just enough piercings in the right places to be characterized as rebellious, but still maintain the All-American good girl look, including one in her mouth that is only revealed when she flashes her immensely beautiful smile. She greeted me like a long lost brother, or lover; embracing me tightly, our hips pressed together flush, almost sexually. My childhood feelings came rushing back like they never left, just tucked in the closet with the rest of my skeletons. Though I’m almost certain it was innocent enough, it seemed to last forever. The rest of the night followed that same tempo, as we all drank our beers, laughing, teasing, and joking. As we all loosened up, she seemed to be giving me more and more of her attention; resting her sparkling gaze upon mine, laughing at my humor, and cuddling up to me for warmth as we took our all too often cigarette breaks, even wrapping her arm around me and allowing me to do the same. I was in love and she knew it, she had to. 22

I thought back to the time when, Kathy, myself and a few others were all together smoking weed, or drinking, maybe both. In my stupor I reminded her of our classes together in grade school, to which she need none, and made my confession, disclosing my crush, my secret. 23

She must have known! She must have known exactly what she was doing to me, and I wasn’t exactly trying to hide the fact that in a matter of hours she had turned me into putty, wrapped around her fingers.24

That night wasn’t the last of Kathy Bridges I would see, not by far; for my group congregated often. We even made a date; I awoke for an early wake n’ bake, a cruise to nowhere in particular. She picked me up, I rolled a joint, and we smoked, alone.25

I thought back to those times, then I thought about the talk I had with Kathy a few days ago. She was on AIM, wonderful, glorious AIM. I was all too excited to hear from her because I hadn’t talked to Kathy since I left home. She told me she couldn’t get online at school too often and was home now, so we should be able to talk more often, at least for a while. As we talked I pondered to myself whether I should bring up a topic I had spent much time fantasizing about. Deciding that the worst she could do was say no, and stomp on my heart, I brought up the fact that I would be vacationing in Europe in the near future. I then said half joking, fully not, that she should join me and we could country hop together. Her response was more than I could imagine; she was elated, optimistic, and even promised that she would join me. I was truly happy that it went as well as it did and that she responded how she did. Though, of course, the clouds of doubt stormed my mind and I was more depressed than ever. We ended the conversation by exchanging addresses, she promised to send me a picture, and swore we would talk a lot more while she was home. I let her go without a fight, though I wasn’t done. I never am. 26

Almost feeding off of the negative energy always produced from such thoughts; the shadows in the room grow powerful, guiding my hand into my pocket, closing my fingers around the object of my tortured pleasure.27

III28

The phone rings, and rings some more. I drink, and drink some more. It had been almost a week since my last conversation with Kathy, a conversation full of promises; some not kept, some not to be kept. The television cast a pale glow on my face, Kathy, a pale glow on my heart. The room is dark, as is my soul, I am wallowing, drawing in the darkness that envelopes me, it is so familiar, it owns a time-share within me, and bullies all other emotions out of their turns.29

I fiddle with the knife in my hand, letting it dance across my vision, now and then shimmering in the glow. I can’t stop thinking about the phone, and who was on the other side. 30

“Alice…” The words trailed out into the abyss. “Why do you love me so?” I exclaim the words with such passion. “It would be so much easier…” All falling on deaf ears; those of the dark creatures eagerly anticipating the sacrifice I so willingly make of myself, time and time again. “If you would just give up…” 31

As I speak these words I press the blade down against my exposed leg, slowly and deliberately drawing it across my flesh. Fresh blood trails the blade, surrounding, and then surpassing it. Dripping slowly, it forms a crimson pool on the floor. As the demons feed from the life giving mana I have released, the wounds on my heart scar over. A temporary fix, for the beasts grow more powerful, ever more embedded in my mind, and the phone keeps ringing. 32