I will kill you yet.
…my response to the Triond Forum Writing Challenge – round 14, where something is to be written using the words “broken mirror” and “enemy”.
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Leave me for I am weary. Is there to be any end to your incessant nagging; an end to the constant critique of my endless flaws? I long only for a short reprieve to the torment that you regurgitate. As I lay here, barely able to bring a cup of water to my parched lips, you whisper cursed utterances. I would prefer to look at the textured plastic cup as half full though you would tell me that not only is it half empty but it is trending to nil. Every moment the life giving moisture is lost to the air-conditioned space around me. I cannot even have a simple drink in peace.
You whisper to me and would present yourself as a friend, an ally that I could not possibly do without. You are however an unruly and arrogant companion, a deceitful chattering fool. I can see you for what you are but who is the bigger fool? For like the mindless human jetsam cravingly dependant upon the grindings of opium I am unable to cast you away from me, yet I hate you. Indeed it seems you are always there for me but I fear your intentions are murderous. Your speech is repetitive, monotonous, and derogatory. It is always this way – unless I am attacked. Then and only then will you shift your piercing attention from me and focus your vile contempt towards my aggressor. Is this why I keep you with me? Am I actually too afraid to let you go? Is this an ultimate masochism?
Why is your desire for me so destructive? What is it that I have done to you that I should deserve this? I wish only for peace, for calm, for enlightenment. How can I sit in silence when without pause you fill my head with demonic static? There is no place for you with me. You call yourself my confidant but you are not. You claim to be my life force but that is false. You are a despot. You are the enemy within. You are nothing but a pathetic reflection cast from the broken mirror of my soul.
I do not want you and I would throw you into the void of hell — if I could. Indeed I have tried. With the compression of wind into a gun of nails I have launched silver projectiles into my skull. I delivered spires of death to crucify you upon the gray matter. I thought I had killed you, dear ego, but alas I was wrong. As I lay here in this sterile ward brain damaged, near paralysed, and surrounded by Freudian and Jungian descendants, you speak to me still. Of course I agree with you my abominable self, for these shadows of faux care cannot comprehend the truth as they are still slaves to their own fallacious voice. They will never understand why I should want to kill you. Yes dear friend let us nod with them in agreement…let us appease them…you bastard. I keep my friends close but I keep you closer. You could not be any closer, for although mere illusion you are still a part of me. Still — I will destroy you yet.
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