searching for the full moon

<img src="images/more-faces2.png"> i saw her again at a small and dim bar in Corfu, 8 years after she had disappeared without a trace or word to anyone. i barely recognized her at first, as her luxurious long black hair was now a rough bob, and her eyes that were so curious and expressive were now a bit duller, sharper, more tired. but her exquisite and subtle dignity, the fluidness in the way she carried herself, gave her away to me. my first love. i felt stunned. do i try to speak to her, after all these years? after the way she disappeared? [[> would i ever get a chance like this again? my curiosity is stronger than my fear. i go to try to speak to her.->2]] [[> i don't know what to do. i'm afraid.->3]] <span class="credits">《SEARCHING FOR THE FULL MOON》 by YAYA <a href="https://nyaya.SKIN">nyaya.SKIN</a> @NYA.YAYAYA</span>

the next day, she was killed by her husband in a gruesome homicide case along with her three children. it's the town gossip, whispered furtively with dark looks around each corner. i gradually catch wind of things like "bloodbath," "dismemberment," "burnt skin," "unrecognizable." the husband was nowhere to be found. i realize i never called her by her name. she probably didn't even remember mine. i walk along the shore as the tide comes in and the sky is a blazing, fiery pink. the water is clear and the faint full moon's reflection is fragmented, splintered, chopped up, and skinned on the surface of the placid sea. my own reflection is illegible in the push and pull of the tide; it erases my footprints, as if i never there from the start. < end > [[try again?->1]]

the seat next to her empties as the musicians on stage swap out. i move to sit next ot her, my eyes and my memory tracing the contours of the back of her head, her slender neck. i didn't think that i still loved her, after all this time, but the nostalgia and shock of her presence enthralled me and shook me to my core. <img src="images/ear-scratch.png"> [[> i remembered all over again how it felt slowly realizing she was gone eight years ago.->5]] [[> despite this overwhelming sensation, i can't quite remember how it felt when she left eight years ago.->6]]

<img src="images/more-faces.png"> i don't know what to do. i'm afraid. my indecision freezes me, and the moment passes. i simply watch her from afar, the way her expression shifts slightly as the people around her move and change places, as the evening progresses and the music fades into the distance. eventually, she gets up and leaves, and i ruminate on the things i wish i could've said. i decide that if i see her again before i leave Corfu, i will try to speak to her then. [[> the next day->4]]

i remembered all over again how it felt slowly realizing she was gone eight years ago. the slow burn -- the calling and texting and emailing to no avail. the panic, the confusion, the unsure grief, the way the ubiquity of her absence carved a negative space within me. the vague sinking feeling of having been left behind, of not being enough, that's haunted me ever since and played no small part in making me something of a recluse. <img src="images/robo-panels.png"> [[> i reach out to tap her lightly on the shoulder.->7]]

despite this overwhelming sensation, i can't quite remember how it felt when she left eight years ago. the confused grief of her disappearance led me down a road of reckless hedonism in a bid to outrun the hollow presence that had carved itself within me. i knew it was an act of cowardice and avoidance -- but just knowing that didn't make me feel any better. <img src="images/robo-panels.png"> [[> i reach out to tap her lightly on the shoulder.->7]]

i reach out to tap her lightly on the shoulder. she whips around and tenses, then relaxes slightly, her spaced out gaze turned curious and probing. "have i...?" her eyes widen and it's like something within her dies at that very moment. "you're...?" <img src="images/the-sadness-deep-inside-lol2.png"> "it's me," i manage to say. "from when...from Richmond. you know." she knows. she's panicked, but slightly relieved too, though she seems to regret feeling that relief. "you... why are you here? i wasn't... no one was supposed to find me ever again. did you...?" [[> "i wasn't looking for you," i assure her.->8]] [[> "i've been looking for you this whole time," i say sharply.->9]]

"i wasn't looking for you," i assure her. "i happened to be on vaction here. paid time off, full time job stuff. a friend of mine lives here and showed me some pictures and i thought it'd be a nice place to visit. i was walking around the city and liked the music i heard from this bar and recognized you. that's all, i swear." why was i trying so hard to comfort her when she was the one that left? old habits die hard. "oh... well good for you. yeah, it's nice here." she looks away. she's shrinking into herself. she's always been someone who didn't feel that she was doing enough unless she was suffering for it. i couldn't stand that part of her; i couldn't bear to watch it. <img src="images/the-sadness-deep-inside-lol.png"> [[> i don't know what to say. what is there to say at this point that could make it any better?->10]] [[> "how have you been?" i ask. it's awkward, but i feel that i may as well.->11]]

<img src="images/fighter-for-track-amtte.png"> "i've been looking for you this whole time," i say sharply. i see her wince, and feel an ugly part of me take pleasure from that. i haven't felt that ugly part of me in a long time; i try not to realize that i am afraid of it. "i haven't forgotten about the way you-- you just, left, like that, for a single day in the eight years since then. do you know how that made me feel? the way it made all our friends feel?" i'm trembling slightly. i realize i'm angry. i don't like that; i don't like the me that gets like this, and she always had a way of bringing it out of me. she doesn't look up. she's quiet, leans her cheek against her propped up hand. "i don't know, but i can imagine. i just had nothing left there. i couldn't think of another way out." [[> i immediately get angrier. what does she even mean by that?->12]] [[> i take a moment to calm down. i don't want to be this kind of person.->13]]

i don't know what to say. what is there to say at this point that could make it any better? we sit in silence awkwardly. i shake my leg rapidly, an unconscious tic i've always had when i was nervous. what did i even want from this? i wish, a bit desperately, that i had ignored her after all. "so, well, if you don't have anything else to say, i'm going to go." she moves to get up. <img src="images/faces3.png"> [[> wait, i say, gripped by an urge not to let her go just yet.->32]] [[> i'm gripped by an urge to not let her go just yet, but i freeze, indecisive, and the moment passes.->33]]

"how have you been?" i ask. it's awkward, but i feel that i may as well. she pauses, her black eyes studying me with a vague detachedness. "i'm well enough," she says. "i'm married now." "you're m--??" i choke on my drink and clumsily wipe my mouth. "sorry. you're married? since when?" the corners of her mouth twitch. she seems pleased with herself, like a cat toying with its prey. "since i got here basically. eight years. we met at a party i wandered into all alone. maybe that's what they call love at first sight? he told me he was going to take care of me. i thought that sounded nice, and now we have three kids. what about you?" "i-- kids??? i-- no, i'm not, i'm not married, i'm not seeing anyone at the moment. you have children?? three???" "three daughters. bortz, diamond, and phosphosphyllite. though they act more like brothers, i think." <img src="images/6757.png"> [[> i stare at her in a mix of disbelief and awe.->55]]

i take a moment to calm down. i don't want to be this kind of person. i've decided that i didn't want to let my anger overwhelm me anymore. i've been humbled enough times already at this point. <img src="images/psycho-chii.png"> "i'm sorry," i say. "i don't mean to get angry. what's done is done. i guess i... it was such a shock, even though it's been eight years already. we were all so confused. but i imagine you must've... had your reasons." she finally looks at me again, with her cat-like eyes that are gently probing, testing me. "i did. i had lots of reasons, actually. but you wouldn't know." "did i not...?" i scramble to remember our time together. it feels so vague, like many lifetimes ago. it wasn't always a perfect relationship, we did fight. there were even times when i felt like i truly hated her. but i didn't remember anything really upsetting prior to her disappearance. she doesn't say anything, and looks at me expectantly. [[> "you didn't seem like you were that unhappy," i say.->16]] [[> "i honestly don't remember, but if you'd like to tell me more now, i'll listen," i say earnestly.->17]]

<img src="images/butt-play.png"> i immediately get angrier. what does she even mean by that? "what does that even mean?" i say. "you obviously just weren't trying. there was so much you could've done, but you chose to stay stuck in your dead end restaurant job and complain all day instead of doing anything about it." i feel like i'm losing myself in this white hot simmering rage directed at her. this wasn't how it was supposed to go, but i can't stop myself anymore. she turns her back to me and takes a step off her bar stool. "don't run away," i snarl. "you're always doing that shit. you have to answer me." "i don't." "you do." "i don't owe you anything." "you owe me an explanation." "i don't." "you do!" [[> without thinking, i reach out to grab her.->14]] [[> i almost reach out to grab her, but something holds me back at the last second.->15]]

<img src="images/more-faces3.png"> "wait," i say, gripped by an urge not to let her go just yet. she freezes. "what? what do you even want from me?" "i don't know," i hurry to say. "but i think. i just wanted to talk to you. i don't really know what we can say to each other. but somehow i feel like i at least want to try." i'm surprised by my own honesty. i'm not sure what inspired it, but i feel rather helpless as i truthfully spill my own feelings in an effort to--do what? reconcile? understand? relive? "try? to do what? reconcile? understand? relive the past? why do something so pointless? it's over now. nothing we had then will ever come back." her voice trembles, shivering with emotion despite her quiet tone. [[> without thinking, i reach out to grab her.->14]] [[> "i didn't know how you felt back then. i want to listen to you now."->34]]

i'm gripped by an urge to not let her go just yet, but i freeze, indecisive, and the moment passes. <img src="images/faces4.png"> she leaves, and i stare at the empty space where she used to be, all the scenarios that could have been running through my head at lightning speed as i try not to acknowledge the looming feeling of regret that washes over me. what if? what if? what if we fought just like before, and nothing had changed? what if we reconciled somehow but still were left with a sadness, a thing that, once broken, could never be fixed? what if we were able to finally understand each other, and in that, realize that it was and could never be enough? but i had chosen to be a coward. to temper the self-loathing that had become so mundane as to be background noise, i tell myself that there's nothing i can do about it now. [[> the next day->4]]

without thinking, i reach out to grab her. she slaps my hand away with such ferocity that it surprises me. hot tears are streaming down her face, and i immediately feel regret. my hand feels like poison. i become aware of the other customers' gazes and murmurs. "you're always doing this," she scream whispers. "you're always trying to trap me. that's why i didn't tell you or anyone when i left. i couldn't fucking do it anymore it was either go somewhere far away or kill myself for good. big fucking difference either way. you never loved me, you loved the control you had over me. you loved how i'd back down as soon as you got mad at me and never bring up any issue i had with you again. you loved how desparate i was for someone, anyone to hold me and be kind to me. you said it yourself, right? you loved that i was vulnerable. you know how i feel, you just don't care." <img src="images/robo-panels2.png"> i stare at her, unable to say a thing as she turns around and storms out of the bar. i grab my things and hastily follow after her, but once i reach the exit, she is already nowhere to be found. [[> the next day->4]]

<img src="images/faces5.png"> i almost reach out to grab her, but something holds me back at the last second. she glances at me for a fraction of a second, with an expression that jolted me and which i knew would remain in my memory for the rest of my life. a lightning mixture of fear, contempt, sorrow, and centuries of hot rage, held at a steady boil all this time, just for me. "i--" she storms out of the bar with great agility. i don't follow; i remain at the bar and hold my face in my hands. [[> the next day->4]]

"you didn't seem like you were that unhappy," i say. she looks at me sharply. "what are you accusing me of?" "i'm not-- i just. i don't really remember anything being that bad, that's all." a black fire. "you don't remember?" she hisses, then laughs. i'm shocked by the coldness of her brief laughter. "of course you wouldn't! you always did have a way of, of rewriting your memories, making yourself the victim. everything was always my fault, wasn't it?" <img src="images/faces5.png"> this isn't the way i remembered her at all. when did she become someone capable of this ferocity? [[> i pause. "what do you mean by that?" i say.->18]] [[> i panic. "well why didn't you say anything then? we could've just talked about it. you weren't very forthcoming with your emotions."->19]]

"i honestly don't remember, but if you'd like to tell me now, i'll listen," i say earnestly. she pauses. she's measuring her words, pouring water into a measuring cup, taring the scale. she's become very intentional about her movements. it's a bit mesmerizing to watch. "i felt so suffocated there. in Richmond. it was such a small place, where everyone knew each other's business, and i hated that. the kind of place you swear you'll leave after two years then you get comfortable and stay, smoking cigarettes on porches and going to the same house shows with the same people in the same sweaty basements just with different names year after year. people pair off and settle in by 24. and there's nothing wrong with that lifestyle; i just needed so much more, but i had to quash that need when i was with you. you idealized me," she says, a hard edge shifting in her voice. "and you were disappointed when i didn't measure up to that ideal. and you'd punish me for it. just like the others." she looks me hard in the eye. <img src="images/fighter-next.png"> [[> i start to feel anxious, but i name the feeling and let it go, patiently waiting for her to continue.->20]] [[> i start to feel a strong urge to destroy her, to wring her neck out and shake her like a doll.->21]]

<img src="images/faces2.png"> i pause. "what do you mean by that?" i say. she takes a breath. "i guess i'm not surprised. the way you'd corner me, emotionally, isolate me, drag me around and control me. get mad at me or ignore me or be nice to me according to your whims. then when i'd try to talk to you, you'd turn it around on me, make it my fault somehow and confuse me until i relented, even more miserable than before. then things would go back to 'normal' and i'd pretend with you that nothing ever happened only for it to resurface later when you wanted to use something, anything to hurt me. and i'd take it, because that's what i thought love was." she gets a faraway look in her eye, then turns to look at me with an ambiguous expression. "do you really not remember any of that?" [[> "i honestly don't remember, but if you'd like to tell me more now, i'll listen," i say earnestly.->17]] [[> i panic. "well why didn't you say anything then? we could've just talked about it. you weren't very forthcoming with your emotions."->19]]

i panic. "well why didn't you say anything then? we could've just talked about it. you weren't very forthcoming with your emotions." she suddenly stands up, shoving her bar stool back until it tips over. a hush falls upon the other customers as they glance towards us. i feel myself shrink. <img src="images/more-faces3.png"> "*i* wasn't 'forthcoming' with *my* feelings? *i* never tried to communicate *my* feelings?" a black rage seethes out from her every pore and gesture. "*you* don't remember anything bad happening. because as long as everything went back to Normal you could forget that it ever happened, just like the rest of them. but not me. every time you i tried to talk to you about my *feelings* you would become so angry at me, knowing that i was weak to that. you used my vulnerability against me to push blame onto me and make me feel horrible so i'd never challenge you again. you liked it-- putting me in my place, controlling me. you wanted to trap me and use me up however you wanted to. you wanted to talk about our issues? is that why you'd force me to walk outside with you and yell at me or ignore me until i cried in public for hours while i begged you to be more considerate of my feelings? is that why you'd kick me out of your house at 3am with no choice but to take a 2 hour train ride home alone because i said something that touched a nerve? that's why you'd tell me you didn't like my tone of voice instead of listening to anything i actually said? is that why you'd guit me into sacrificing my work time to travel an hour each way to do your laundry or bring you food or else i didn't 'care enough?' that's what your 'love' was, right? that's what love was to you? to make me a mother you can fuck!" she's screaming by the end. my mind is blank. i hate her. i love her. both more than i can bear. she belongs to me. who is she? who was she all this time? i can't stand it. everyone's eyes are on me. so i leave the bar without looking back. [[> the next day->4]]

i start to feel anxious, but i name the feeling and let it go, patiently waiting for her to continue. "do you know how that felt?" she finally says. "no," i say. "it felt disgusting." i wince. "i'm... sorry." she sighs. "what does it matter now? i left it all behind and came here. i'm married and have a family now. i was never supposed to see you again, yet here we are." "you--you have a family??" i can't hide my shock. i never would have expected this of her. she smiles. "i do. shortly after i arrived here, i met... my husband. we got married after a couple months. i have three kids." <img src="images/gun-butt-pic.png"> [[> "you have kids?? three??" i gape.->23]] [[> "are you happy now?"->24]]

i start to feel a strong urge to destroy her, to wring her neck out and shake her like a doll. in a kitchen even, like out of a certain iconic scene, somewhere. "why are you looking at me like that?" she says quietly. "like what?" "like you want to kill me." i can't read her expression. it makes me uneasy. moments pass, neither of us saying a word. we stare at each other silently and i feel like i'm looking into a deep abyss. she's mocking me with just her eyes. you can end this right now if you kill me, she seems to be saying. you want to. you're sick. a pervert. <img src="images/butt-ass.png"> she breaks contact first and stands up. "if you have nothing to say, then i'm going to go." [[> without thinking, i reach out to grab her.->14]] [[> i watch her leave.->22]]

<img src="images/rush-in.png"> "you have kids?? three??" i gape. "yes," she says. "three girls. they're good kids. children are very perceptive and smart, much more than they're given credit for." "i... i never would have expected that of you. no offense." "the me that you knew wasn't nearly ready, she had far too many big ideas to chase. but that me has long since been dead. she doesn't exist anymore. i didn't need her anymore, so i killed her." [[> was it worth it?->54]]

<img src="images/chobits-float-psoe.png"> "are you happy now?" she smiles a little, a half-hearted apology. "you could say that. after everything i did to disappear and come here, i should at least be happy, right?" i smile back slightly, and we stop talking. it's a little awkward as we share this lost moment of grief, as strangers. [[> "were you planning to disappear for a long time before you left?" i finally ask quietly.->25]] [[> "what's your husband like?" i finally ask quietly.->26]]

i watch her leave. i sink into myself. did i regret it? did i want her to go? did i want her to stay? even if i had to force her to? did i hate her? did i love her? did i want her for myself? did i want to forget she ever existed? <img src="images/rush-in.png"> my head starts to hurt. i'm crying and i don't know why. i filled with the weight of my own emptiness. it's heavy enough to pull me under the floorboards. i sit there until the bar closes and the bartender bids me farewell. [[> the next day->4]]

<img src="images/tiptoe.png"> "were you planning to disappear for a long time before you left?" i finally ask quietly. "yes," she says automatically. "for several months at least. half a year even. a month to decide on it, a month to research all my options, how to get greek citizenship, a few more months to save money, make an itinerary, get all my documents together, and make any other preparations i felt like making. i don't know. but i was planning it for a while. all while doing it out of your sight. [[> "did you hate me that much?"->27]]

"what's your husband like?" i finally ask quietly. "he's sweet," she says. "he doesn't know the ambitious and intellectual part of me, that made huge oil paintings and put up poems in galleries, sang sad songs by the beach at midnight, booked DIY shows in my living room. i think he senses a hidden depth to me but he's content to never talk about it. he's warm and simple. he doesn't ask me for or expect anything i don't want to give him. and i find that so generous somehow, that he's shown me that i don't need to fulfill all these big desires that i had to be happy. with him i can just be his wife, raise our kids, take pleasure in the details of homemaking. i don't need to so desparately latch onto the world through my art. i don't need to fight so hard for the complicated and grand happinesses i thought i needed." <img src="images/wistful.png"> [[> is that really being happy?->28]]

"did you hate me that much?" "yes," she says, "but i loved you too. probably. sometimes it's hard to say." "i know what you mean." we both smile slightly. it feels like there's nothing more that we can say, and that feels a bit sad somehow. we sit without speaking for a few moments that feel like eternities. she gets up to leave first, glances at me, then turns away. i watch her disappear into the warm night. <img src="images/robo-panels2.png"> [[> the next day->4]]

"is that really being happy?" <img src="images/three-faces3.png"> she doesn't say anything for a moment, staring down at her half-finished drink. the other customers start to look like shadows wearing human clothes, fuzzy and staticy, blipping in and out of existence. was there even a bartender to begin with? "i know that it's more like i ran away from doing it the hard way. like maybe if i'd kept fighting, i'd eventually have broken through and found some real happiness in myself that no one could ever take away from me. to be honest, i'm unsatisfied with myself now, but i'm still content, you know? i don't mind living this way. i wasn't strong enough to keep fighting, and now i've accepted being weak. i'm another boring adult who deliberately closes their eyes to the truth of the world, the exact kind of person i detested when i was young. is that so bad though? can't i choose to live this way too?" [[> i don't know. i can't tell you if that's the right or wrong way to live.->30]] [[> i don't know. but i think you do.->31]]

<img src="images/consumption.png"> “i don’t know. i can’t tell you if that’s the right or wrong way to live.” “how cold,” she says, eyes downcast, the corner of her mouth slightly upturned. “but you’re right. that’s the truth, that there is no absolute truth. even it’s cold, it’s comforting to know that. does that make me twisted?” i don’t answer. she traces her thin fingers through the condensation formed on her cup. “i have to go,” she says, getting up from her seat. “but it was nice seeing you.” i nod, an ambiguous feeling forming in the pit of my stomach. she meanders to the exit, and uneventfully disappears into the dark of the night. i watch the other customers until their soft shadowy forms blend into the noise of the bar. [[> the next day->4]]

"i don't know. but i think you do." "that's sweet," she says without smiling, "but you don't really know that. and i hate words spoken without meaning or intent. frivolities, politeness, niceties. i never understood any of that. it's nice, but it doesn't mean anything. how can people live with themselves, constantly lying like that?" she crumples up her napkin, balled up in a loose fist. i don't say anything. <img src="images/three-faces2.png"> "i have to go," she says, getting up from her seat. "i didn't really want to see you tonight. but i guess i don't really regret talking to you." she looks at me and i nod, an ambiguous feeling forming in the pit of my stomach. she meanders to the exit, and uneventfully disappears into the dark of the night. i watch the other customers until their shadowy forms blend into the noise of the bar. [[> the next day->4]]

"i didn't know how you felt back then. i want to listen to you now." i'm unfamiliar with this shocking earnest me that is now surfacing. it's uncomfortable, and frightening, but i feel something inside me loosening, ready to burst. "you're going to listen to me now huh?" she can't help herself; she covers her face, still turned away from me. hot tears stream down her arm. she wants to say something angry, but the anger overwhelms her and she can only stand, stiffly exuding rage from many lifetimes ago. i at least know her this well. <img src="images/face-of-a-murderer.png"> [[> i try to reach out and gently touch her hand.->35]] [[> i pull her bar stool back out for her and wait patiently.->36]]

i try to reach out and gently touch her hand. she slaps it away, pulls her barstool back out and sits down rashly. "i-- i wasn't always a good partner to you. or, i guess i was pretty selfish, in a lot of ways," i say. awkwardly my face burns. i feel possessed, as if i am confessing my sins to an angel. "when i think about it, i feel like, i don't remember much of our relationship, just that sometimes i'd get angry-- like it was automatic, and i'd just get so angry, and take it out on you. i-- shouldn't have done that. i'm sorry." she sobs a little and curls up into herself. i don't know if what i said was right or not. i resent her a little, but i try to hold that feeling back. i know myself enough now to know that this is a defensive feeling. [[> i wait patiently.->37]]

i pull her bar stool back out for her and wait patiently. she sits down and continues to cry silently and angrily. "there's nothing you could ever do to make it up to me," she finally says. "there's nothing anyone can give me that could possibly make up for all those years of lost time... for the selfhood that was taken from me. everything that you took from me. my identity, my energy, my freedom. any sense of safety that i had in the world or in myself. how could you understand how empty i was? death meant nothing to me when all of you killed me so many times. you and the others." [[> "i understand."->43]]

i wait patiently. after what feels like an eternity, she wipes at her eyes and looks at me with a mixture of ferocity, frustration, grief, and something very soft. "you can barely remember? you'd just... get angry?" she says weakly. "do you have any idea how i felt? did you ever even think about it? you didn't, right, if you can admit to all that now?" "i... didn't," i say. "i felt so empty. every time you said something.. even if it was some offhand thing. actually, it was the offhanded cruelty, how casual you were about knocking me down whenever you were feeling bad about yourself, that really hurt. or your passive cruelty in ignoring my attempts to be closer to you. the normalcy of the way you'd inflict pain on me. do you understand that?" [[> did i do all that...? i'm sorry. i'm really sorry.->38]]

"i understand." "yeah, you understand, sure. you don't, really, beyond it being a thought exercise. what do you know about what it feels like living in this body? i could tell you all about it, about the way people want to control and possess me, without my consent, the access people think they have to me just because i look or act a certain way, how people so easily project their own insecurities and self loathing onto me and attack me for it. i could tell you about all the abuse and repertoire of pain i've endured but it wouldn't mean anything. it wouldn't mean a thing!" [[> ...->44]]

"i used to think i would feel so vindicated if you and the others came back to tell me you all were wrong, that you treated me terribly. but now that it's happening i don't feel better at all. what happened with you all went so far past the point of no return there's nothing that can be said or done. what is the value of selfhood? can you tell me that? you can tell even me all about how you turned your life around and completely changed yourself. but then it'd be about you. where does that leave me? i still have all these scars. i can never be unbroken. i'm not pure anymore. i'll never get it back. and it fills me with so much rage." [[> ...->45]]

"every time... i find even a scrap of happiness that i make for myself... or experience a taste of joy. i'll realize a little more of how much was taken from me. and it'll plunge me into a deep sorrow and i'll be full of rage again. this sorrow underlines every single one of my thoughts and actions. i try not to think about it especially around my family, but in the negative spaces when i am alone, it comes back to me like an old friend. this ceaseless rage. because it's not just my pain, it's the pain of everyone that's come before me and everyone that will come after, and it's this massive weight that no one but me can see, dragging me down & anchoring me to the ocean floor." [[> ...->46]]

"it's so easy to take everything away from me. you probably know. i live never knowing when it'll happen again, when everything that i've built for myself will be stolen again. it makes me want to kill myself, because at least then, i can leave it all behind by my own choice. there's so many things worse that just being dead, you know. i've been killed so many times already. what does it really matter?" [[> ...->47]]

"no one will save me. no one can help me. my husband doesn't really know; he doesn't ask me about anything i don't want him to hear. and i like that about him, he's just warm and simple. but not even his love can save me. not even my love for my children has saved me. do you know how lonely it is to feel that i need to protect the people i love from myself? because the weight of my suffering is too heavy for anyone else to bear even a sliver of?" [[> ...->48]]

"every time the train comes i imagine myself jumping in front of it and i try to feel the moment of impact on my body. i can see myself in pieces smeared across the tracks. every time i drive through the mountains i see myself driving off a cliff into the sea and drowning while trapped inside. i go to the forest and i'm hanging from a rope tied to a tree. im on the roof of a building and i'm smashed onto the street below. in an enclosed room, a gun to the head. it's so easy to see myself dying and dead. why is it so easy?" a tear rolls down her face. [[> ...->49]]

"i live on only because i don't want to leave a body behind if i kill myself. i can't stand the idea of my mangled body being found, all ugly and bloated. if i'm going to go to all that trouble i want to die beautifully and completely, just disappear as if i were never here, and my existence on this earth was just a fever dream someone had. i'm a moving corpse! killing myself would only match the state of my body to the state of my heart. there's no other way out of this relentless torment." [[> ...->50]]

"what can i do? what can you even do for me? what can anyone do for me? i'm not strong enough to save myself. this isn't a world meant for me to live in. i want to be taken away. i don't care how. just kill me. i'll forgive you if you kill me. isn't that what you've always wanted?" [[> "i'm sorry. i can't do that. i'm so sorry."->51]]

"i'm sorry. i can't do that. i'm so sorry." "you fucking coward!" she screams and throws her cup at me. it clips the side of my forehead, bruising me, and alcohol soaks into my clothes. she grabs her things and runs out, banging into chairs and patrons on her way out. i follow her as hastily as i can, but as soon as i reach the street she is nowhere to be found. i rub my forehead where the cup hit me. an indescribable hollowness floods my soul as i pay for both of our drinks. [[> the next day->4]]

"did i do all that?" i'm sorry. i'm really sorry." "how can a 'sorry' now give me back all those years that you stole from me? how can you give me back my sense of self that i had to rebuild, piece by piece, so painfully, for the last eight years? how can you possibly make up for taking me away from my self and my life so violently?" "i don't know. i don't know." "you can't. nothing can give me back my time. i'm not that strong of a person. i became just like my mother!" [[> she breaks out into sobs.->39]]

she breaks out into sobs. the other patrons, nothing more than shadowy wisps wearing human clothes, whisper amongst themselves. i want to comfort her somehow, but she may not want me to touch her at all. despite the discomfort of experiencing her rage for the first time, something inside me feels relieved. i feel a burning shame for having avoided her feelings for so long. [[> do you... not want to be like your mother?->40]]

"do you... not want to be like your mother?" "no. i hate her. she's the last person in the world that i'd ever have wanted to be like. people like you whose mothers loved and cared about them, could never understand what it's like to have a mother who is incapable of loving you. we live in such completely different worlds. you could never know the nothingness and self loathing that mothers make their daughters bear." she takes a sip of water and balls up her napkin in a fist. she looks at me with a feeling i cannot describe. "i hate it. and i hated that you were like my father. even though you're not a Man like that. but just the way you carry yourself and the way you reacted to things you didn't like. the things you talk about. the things you wanted and your charisma. you reminded me of him, and that scared me and attracted me." [[> i was like your father?->41]]

"i was like your father?" "i finally realized the thing that he did thanks to you. that he never loved me for myself, he only loved me as far as as i could reflect him back to himself. he didn't love the parts of me that weren't like him, the times that i didn't want to be like him, because he saw that as a rejection of himself. my mother couldn't love me because she didn't love herself; my father only knew how to love himself. and he would terrorize me when he got angry... your anger was his anger, i realized. the way you'd control me with your false generosity. "i would think to myself, why do i keep getting into these kinds of situations? what is it about me that attracts people like you? i keep getting hurt, i keep getting more and more hollowed out until i'm running way past empty that i can't remember what it's like to be in the light anymore, i'm so mired in this world of pain and hurting each other and being inextricably glued to someone through shared complementary pain. i'm so tired of it i would rather die." [[> ...->42]]

"i'm not all that committed to living. no, living is hellish after everything i've been through. living in the aftermath of emotional war is its own pain. it\'92s so hard. it\'92s so hard to choose your own healing. you think healing and you think of some staged beautification, pain magically disappearing, but healing is ugly, and so painful. you're taking more than 20 years of repressed suffering all at once, you know? just tearing the limiters off. pain is a map of the body. "i was building this house inside of me. before i came here that's what i was doing. or, i found this house inside of me, and it was so wrecked, so destroyed. blasted and charred and disfigured. the state of my heart, yeah. this basement full of mud. i'd write songs about it." [[> ...->52]]

"i've been trying to fix it little by little. but i don't know what it looked like before, i don't know what shape it's supposed to be now. i just take the broken pieces and try to fit them together in some way that might make sense. it's hideous and monstrous. my room is up the stairs, it's small, there's nothing in it but a small window overlooking the sea, and there's a chair there. the clouds are low and grey and a hazy light shines through in strips. the air is warm and slightly humid. "i'd invite you to sit here. and i'll sit on the chair. or maybe i'll stand by the window and look out. this house is the only thing on the tiny grassy island. there's a single line of laundry with white clothes drying in the breeze. the water is a cool clear blue grey. but there's no way out of the house to the island or the water below. the house itself is a puzzle, and no matter how you fit the pieces together, it'll never lead you outside." [[> ...->53]]

"but you're not there. i thought i let you in, i thought i showed you around the house, even my secret places. but you were never there at all. not since the beginning. who was i leading around the house? who was i sharing it with? who did i think was there with me?" she looks me directly in the eyes, two black holes holding me still with an unknowable pain. there's a small window overlooking the sea, there's a single chair. the clouds are low and grey and a hazy golden light shines through them. the air is warm and slightly humid. the walls fall away. the bar is a farce. everything down to the night air is complete fabrication. only shadows between me and her. all fading... [[> the next day->4]]

"was it worth it?" she doesn't say anything for a long moment. a dark look settles in her eyes. "maybe it's not a matter of whether it was worth it, so much as, that person deserved to be killed. someone that naive, who actually believed in remaining pure, really ought to die, you know?" i don't say anything for a long moment. [[> what's your husband like? i finally ask quietly.->26]]

i stare at her in a mix of disbelief and awe. this woman, the same woman who was so fervently committed to her art, fighting with and through her art, living for art which was as natural to her as breathing, who had told me with such conviction that she didn't need a family so long as her art hadn't yet achieved its highest peak, was now a simple housewife? how people can change, if they really want to. <img src="images/234234.png"> "it's not like the past me to turn into this, right? how could i?" she smirks. i feel that details of her old self still remain, that sharp perceptiveness and willingness to provoke what normally remains unsaid. "boring questions. i just got tired of it all. you know what i realized, is that one person isn't supposed to be able to carry the weight of their own life by themselves like that. it's sure self-destruction. everyone's lives are so heavy, but people normally live by divvying that weight up and sharing with their loved ones, taking on their weight in exchange. somehow, even if the end weight is the same, it feels less alone, right? but no one wanted to share like that back then. i didn't think you would. it was either stay there and get crushed by that loneliness, or do something drastic about it. so i chose to run away. would you judge me for being a coward?" [[> didn't i share that weight with you?->56]]

"didn't i share that weight with you?" i say. we were together for years, after all. "did you?" she says a bit sharply. "i remember you being really avoidant actually. your own special mix of avoidant when it suited you, confrontational when it suited you, namely when you could project something you hated about yourself onto me. is that sharing weight? or just violently pushing your desires onto me and mistaking that for intimacy?" i wince. "well, i can't deny being kind of...out of my mind then. full of resentment that i didn't manage well, or at all. you did take the brunt of that. i can't make that up to you. i'm sorry." i'm surprised at my own straightforwardness. it feels relieving, somehow. "you're so straightforward about it now. i'm surprised; i guess you've managed to grow a bit since then. yeah, you can't make up for all of that stuff you did, even if you wanted to now. it really hurt then. i really hated you for it. i still do, honestly; i'll never be able to forgive you, you know?" <img src="images/6574567.png"> [[> what a weird conversation, i think to myself.->57]]

what a weird conversation, i think to myself. but it doesn't feel bad. "i know," i say. "and that's okay. i'm strong enough to bear it now." i'm not sure what i mean by that, but it feels like the right thing to say. she eyes me; i feel naked, seen through. "are you now." she taps her glass. <img src="images/23423.png"> we don't say anything else for an indeterminate amount of time. it feels like many timelines' worth of dialogue has puttered to a stop. as if there's nothing else that needs to be said, or even can be said anymore. what's the point? finally, she turns toward me, one foot on the ground. "i didn't enjoy seeing you. but i don't regret it either." she stands up, then suddenly looks a bit unsure. "you...thank you?" an empty look settles in her eyes, betraying a glimpse of longing and, barely perceptibly, a yawning endless grief. "goodbye." she leaves, and i know that i will never see her again. [[> the next day->4]]