to visit him. I have been asked
to give him space, to give him time to heal, to leave him the hell alone. He is going to be okay, is what Sonya and Sara told me. They told me not to worry,
that everything would be fine, but their smiles were a little less exuberant than
they usually are and I’m beginning to wonder if they, too, are finally beginning to
see me for what I truly am.
A horrible, selfish, pathetic monster.
I took what I wanted. I knew better and I took it anyway. Adam couldn’t have known,
he could never have known what it would be like to really suffer at my hands. He was
innocent of the depth of it, of the cruel reality of it. He’d only felt bursts of
my power, according to Castle. He’d only felt small stabs of it and was able and aware
enough to let go without feeling the full effects.
But I knew better.
I knew what I was capable of. I knew what the risks were and I did it anyway. I allowed
myself to forget, to be reckless, to be greedy and stupid because I wanted what I
couldn’t have. I wanted to believe in fairy tales and happy endings and pure possibility.
I wanted to pretend that I was a better person than I actually am but instead I managed
to out myself as the terror I’ve always been accused of being.
My parents were right to get rid of me.
Castle isn’t even speaking to me.
Kenji, however, still expects me to show up at 6:00 a.m. for whatever it is we’re
supposed to be doing tomorrow, and I find I’m actually kind of grateful for the distraction.
I only wish it would come sooner. Life will be solitary for me from now on, just as
it always has been, and it’s best if I find a way to fill my time.
To forget.
It keeps hitting me, over and over and over again, this complete and utter loneliness.
This absence of him in my life, this realization that I will never know the warmth
of his body, the tenderness of his touch ever again. This reminder of who I am and
what I’ve done and where I belong.
But I’ve accepted the terms and conditions of my new reality.
I cannot be with him. I will not be with him. I won’t risk hurting him again, won’t
risk becoming the creature he’s always afraid of, too scared to touch, to kiss, to
hold. I don’t want to keep him from having a normal life with someone who isn’t going
to accidentally kill him all the time.
So I have to cut myself out of his world. Cut him out of mine.
It’s much harder now. So much harder to resign myself to an existence of ice and emptiness
now that I’ve known heat, urgency, tenderness, and passion; the extraordinary comfort
of being able to touch another being.
It’s humiliating.
That I thought I could slip into the role of a regular girl with a regular boyfriend;
that I thought I could live out the stories I’d read in so many books as a child.
Me.
Juliette with a dream.
Just the thought of it is enough to fill me with mortification. How embarrassing for
me, that I thought I could change what I’d been dealt. That I looked in the mirror
and actually liked the pale face staring back at me.
How sad.
I always dared to identify with the princess, the one who runs away and finds a fairy
godmother to transform her into a beautiful girl with a bright future. I clung to
something like hope, to a thread of maybes and possiblys and perhapses. But I should’ve
listened when my parents told me that things like me aren’t allowed to have dreams. Things like me are better off destroyed, is what my mother said to me.
And I’m beginning to think they were right. I’m beginning to wonder if I should just
bury myself in the ground before I remember that technically, I already am. I never
even needed a shovel.
It’s strange.
How hollow I feel.
Like there might be echoes inside of me. Like I’m one of those chocolate rabbits they
used to sell around Easter, the ones that were nothing more than a sweet shell encapsulating
a world of nothing. I’m
to give him space, to give him time to heal, to leave him the hell alone. He is going to be okay, is what Sonya and Sara told me. They told me not to worry,
that everything would be fine, but their smiles were a little less exuberant than
they usually are and I’m beginning to wonder if they, too, are finally beginning to
see me for what I truly am.
A horrible, selfish, pathetic monster.
I took what I wanted. I knew better and I took it anyway. Adam couldn’t have known,
he could never have known what it would be like to really suffer at my hands. He was
innocent of the depth of it, of the cruel reality of it. He’d only felt bursts of
my power, according to Castle. He’d only felt small stabs of it and was able and aware
enough to let go without feeling the full effects.
But I knew better.
I knew what I was capable of. I knew what the risks were and I did it anyway. I allowed
myself to forget, to be reckless, to be greedy and stupid because I wanted what I
couldn’t have. I wanted to believe in fairy tales and happy endings and pure possibility.
I wanted to pretend that I was a better person than I actually am but instead I managed
to out myself as the terror I’ve always been accused of being.
My parents were right to get rid of me.
Castle isn’t even speaking to me.
Kenji, however, still expects me to show up at 6:00 a.m. for whatever it is we’re
supposed to be doing tomorrow, and I find I’m actually kind of grateful for the distraction.
I only wish it would come sooner. Life will be solitary for me from now on, just as
it always has been, and it’s best if I find a way to fill my time.
To forget.
It keeps hitting me, over and over and over again, this complete and utter loneliness.
This absence of him in my life, this realization that I will never know the warmth
of his body, the tenderness of his touch ever again. This reminder of who I am and
what I’ve done and where I belong.
But I’ve accepted the terms and conditions of my new reality.
I cannot be with him. I will not be with him. I won’t risk hurting him again, won’t
risk becoming the creature he’s always afraid of, too scared to touch, to kiss, to
hold. I don’t want to keep him from having a normal life with someone who isn’t going
to accidentally kill him all the time.
So I have to cut myself out of his world. Cut him out of mine.
It’s much harder now. So much harder to resign myself to an existence of ice and emptiness
now that I’ve known heat, urgency, tenderness, and passion; the extraordinary comfort
of being able to touch another being.
It’s humiliating.
That I thought I could slip into the role of a regular girl with a regular boyfriend;
that I thought I could live out the stories I’d read in so many books as a child.
Me.
Juliette with a dream.
Just the thought of it is enough to fill me with mortification. How embarrassing for
me, that I thought I could change what I’d been dealt. That I looked in the mirror
and actually liked the pale face staring back at me.
How sad.
I always dared to identify with the princess, the one who runs away and finds a fairy
godmother to transform her into a beautiful girl with a bright future. I clung to
something like hope, to a thread of maybes and possiblys and perhapses. But I should’ve
listened when my parents told me that things like me aren’t allowed to have dreams. Things like me are better off destroyed, is what my mother said to me.
And I’m beginning to think they were right. I’m beginning to wonder if I should just
bury myself in the ground before I remember that technically, I already am. I never
even needed a shovel.
It’s strange.
How hollow I feel.
Like there might be echoes inside of me. Like I’m one of those chocolate rabbits they
used to sell around Easter, the ones that were nothing more than a sweet shell encapsulating
a world of nothing. I’m
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