Madison's DeadJournal

### Private Post 2003-11-27

It's been a month and so much has happened but I don't have time to write it all right now. I had another one of those "real" dreams last night so I need to write it down.

At first it was really pleasant. I'm having a leftover stuffing and turkey sandwich on a beach chair on the island. The crabs are everywhere and fighting over pieces of crusts that I toss them. My favorite to win has a barnacle on top of its shell just behind its left eye. But the one that is missing a back leg is really tenacious, and its a close fight.

Then the explosion of light. A glowing circle out in the water on the horizon, followed by a a burst of water in spray at the center of the expanding ring. It takes longer for the sound to reach me, the blast roaring out of the waves before it rips through the air. I know before I get in the raft that it came from the portal.

The waves are much choppier than usual as I'm rowing out. I'm trying not to panic, my breath coming in raggedly. I can feel an attack coming and I try to regain composure. And somehow just like that I'm at the buoy. Its beat to hell and the flag is completely gone. The water around me is inky black with murk and debris, making it impossible to see under the surface at all. It smells terrible.

I pull on the buoy to see if the chain is still anchored to the reef below. It seems to be. I start to climb into the water, even though I already know what I'm going to find. Holding tightly to the chain I dive under and work my way down hand-over-first. My eyes are closed because its impossible to see anyway. It takes an eternity to reach the mouth piece at the halfway point. I push the button but no air comes out.

Now I really start to panic. If I go all the way down, and the portal really is gone, I wont have any air to get back up. I let go of the chain and thrash my way back to the surface. There are bodies and hands around me like when I was sucked into the tub, and I start screaming as I break the surface. But there's nothing there. Nobody is grabbing me. I'm alone.

For a while, I hold onto the buoy and float. I don't know what I'm waiting for. Nobody is going to find me out here. There's no way home. And I realize, after I catch my breath, that my raft floated away while I was under the water.

The murk clears as night falls, but its still too dark to see the portal below. The stars don't come out, and I'm afraid I've somehow gone to the Lightless Place. But I'm too exhausted to care, and fall asleep with a rope tied between myself and the chain.

Dawn comes too soon, without any rest. But I can see the ocean floor below perfectly clear in the light cerulean water. The rubble of the sea cave that was the portal is sharp and unmistakable. The doorway is completely gone, filled in with chunks of coral and lava rock. No way to summon the chamber. No hope of going home. No way back to the island.

### Private Post 2003-10-26

I'm so overwhelmed by everything that I'm paralyzed. Just when I think I'm at my absolute limit, something else happens and I discover whole new levels of suck. But I'm still here, still whole, and still sane (mostly) so I guess there's that. I'm just really getting tired of repeating myself: I don't know what to do.

Mirrikh killed Becky and made her a demoniac last night. Becky escaped somehow I guess -- I missed the story of what happened -- and instead of going home she went over to her house. Of course, that makes sense, because only she can really know what Becky is going through. They're the same. Becky needs her. She can teach Becky about eating hearts and having scary powers and... whatever. I'm okay with that. (Seriously.)

What's not okay is what she said to me before I went to her house. I'm so mad-hurt at her right now. I only just kind of came out to her on Friday and she thought it would be okay to tease/mock me by "bribing" me with French kissing to come over. She has told me she's not interested and she has told me she used sex for personal gain. Now I feel like an idiot 'cause she's just messing with my feelings because I opened up a little.

She seemed more annoyed at Becky than anything, too. I really feel for Becky, and it seems like no one else does. She's refusing to go home and see her family, and seems really despondent. The others took it seriously enough, but not really comforting or consoling. I admit I didn't really know what to do to make things better and I feel bad about that. I did tell her mom that she's okay so she wouldn't worry that she's dead. (And so cops wouldn't descend on her house, hopefully, I let Dozer know as well.)

Though my first reaction was fear because... well, Becky owns the knife. So maybe my dreams were wrong about who kills me, it still can't be good if Becky is a demoniac \*and\* has access to the knife. So I took care of it. I got the knife and I hid it somewhere Becky wont find it. Just in case. I kept an eye on Becky for as long as I could last night, as I didn't feel very safe and didn't want to leave her with others unguarded. But now I feel kind of silly even admitting that.

She just made breakfast and is trying to get me to eat some. Still upset with her and don't feel like eating though. We're going to take the new girl, Allison, to the teleportation chamber in a bit. Because I guess we're Those People now. This probably isn't going to go well... I'll write more tonight I guess.

### Private Post 2003-10-25

I told her about the second dream; it made her cry. I told her I was afraid that because she is a demoniac now, she will outgrow me and leave; it made her cry. I told her I think her eyes are beautiful; it made her curl up in a miserable lump.

I don't know what to do. I want to share with her my experiences and feelings, but it brings her grief. I want to tell her how amazing I think she is, but she just shuts down. She said no one has ever really said nice things to her before, and I think she believes it is because she doesn't deserve it. I don't want to keep upsetting her, but if I am silent, she'll continue to believe that...

We had a conversation over texts yesterday that got cut short. I tried to work up the courage to ask more about it today, but things were already really intense this morning. Yesterday she told me she doesn't understand attraction, and that she's had sex before but it "wasn't bad, but it wasn't anything."

I tried searching online and I think she was trying to tell me that she is asexual. Am I allowed to have feelings about that? It seems so selfish of me. Why does it seem worse than when I assumed she was straight? Either way, she doesn't want me so I shouldn't be taking this so hard or so personally. (At least now I understand the comment about not wanting to seduce me...)

Except... I guess I kind of thought, maybe, there was a chance. I stayed over a couple nights this week, and she slept on the couch with me and we cuddled and it was nice. It seemed to me that maybe she was open to being more than friends. And I was so happy to be so physically close to her that maybe I read more into it than was actually there.

Did I force her to stay? I can't really remember now. I was crying so much the first night and I just wanted to be held and touched. Did she feel obligated because of that? Ugh. I would feel so terrible. I already feel terrible. Was she uncomfortable the entire time I was obliviously happy?? Was she too uncomfortable to tell me in person to stop touching her, and that's why she texted me yesterday, when I wasn't at her house with her?

Aughhhh.

I am trying really hard to respect her space. I'm so painfully conscious of it now. I mean, for months now, I've been conscious of exactly where she is and how close I am to her and every single touch. But now my awareness of her brings a pang of guilt. I froze up this morning when she hugged me. I didn't know what to do. I know what I wanted to do, but everything in me was screaming that its wrong -- so I did nothing. And I did nothing to comfort her when she curled up in a miserable lump because \*I gave her a compliment\*.

I feel like a piece of garbage. I talk to her, I hurt her. I avoid her, I hurt her. I touch her, I hurt her. I don't touch her, I hurt her. My existence hurts her.

### Private Post 2003-10-23

Another dream. A LOT happened last night, too, but first I need to write down the dream details before I forget.

It starts the same. We are lying in bed together, my back against her chest. Both of us are naked. She has the knife. This time I can understand her whisper in my ear, "Are you ready?" "No," I choke back a sob. The pain doesn't come. The knife is gone. She wraps her arms around me, and then the dream changes...

I am at a party in my honor. A high society function celebrating the opening of my first exhibit at some gallery. It's full of adults -- art critics and strangers. None of my friends are there and I feel incredibly vulnerable and out of place. Rumors circulate in the undercurrent of the room, people whispering about how I am crazy and delusional. "Yeah, but look at this sculpture her madness inspired." I am a curiosity.

People are jeering at me, laughing at me, judging me. I don't belong with this crowd and they know it. Like sharks smelling blood in the water they circle me, preparing for the kill. I have to escape. I need fresh air. I push my way through the crowd out to the empty patio. I can't breathe. An asthma attack is coming.

No; I can't breathe, because Mirrikh's hands are over my mouth. He's got something in them, wrapping it around my face. Plastic wrap. I claw at his hands and try to pull the plastic away from my mouth and nose. My breathing is labored, my lungs are on fire. But I have to fight him. I won't let him do to me what he did to her. "You'll thank me later," Mirrikh croons.

Somehow I manage to get out a scream. Someone hears me. People are coming! He realizes it just in time. He shoves me away from him as the lights turn on and people come pouring out into the yard. "She's nuts! She just came after me!" I am still gasping for breath. I try to say that he tried to kill me, but I can't stop wheezing. I need my inhaler. (A wave of guilt hits me: it's all my fault because she went to get my inhaler...)

The crowd turns into a hostile buzz. She's just doing it for attention. She should be ashamed, accusing someone as important as him! How dare she?! Bitch! Cunt! I can't make everything out, can't see him anymore as the crowd closes in on me. But I can feel his smug look.

Dozer is arrives -- or maybe he's been there all along -- and he sees through Mirrikh's lies, sees him for what he really is. But he can't support me or act against him without the crowd turning violent. Somehow I know that Dozer's actions could enrage the crowd and risk both our lives. He is forced to let Mirrikh escape, to walk away scot-free after attempting to kill me. I know with certainty Mirrikh will try again. Then I woke up.

This dream felt as real as the first one. But they can't both come true. So has something changed? Or am I just seeing multiple paths...?

Maybe something changed because of last night. I ended up having long conversations with her, Becky, and Nemo over text message and ICQ. I worked up the nerve to ask Becky if she is into girls or any girl in particular in our group. She denied it, or rather, said it really wasn't something she had thought about at all. So at least I don't have to worry about Becky also having a thing for her...

But then our conversation turned towards the knife, because I have been asking everyone about it. And she recognized it! Not only that but she has the knife in her possession. HOLY SHIT. This means my first dream was real somehow. A vision or a premonition or something. There's no way I'd ever seen the knife before my dream. Even Becky hadn't seen it before yesterday, cause it's something her parents keep for special ritual magic. (Also, wtf, her parents are doing magic with some evil heart-cutting-out knife?!)

My dream was real.

I am going to die.

I'm ... well, "okay" is definitely not the right word. I'm really fucked up frankly. But you can also only stay at red alert status for so long, then eventually it just becomes the new normal. I've somehow "known" the nightmare was real since I had it. That's why I couldn't shake it from my thoughts, and why I was searching for the knife. That the knife exists just confirms what I already knew in my heart. It's actually a little comforting to know that I'm not completely bonkers, going over the edge over "just" a dream. Affirmation feels good.

But I don't want to die. I'm becoming less and less certain that being a demoniac is so terrible though. I asked her and Nemo both about it. Not counting the dying part and the pain associated with it, do they like what they are now? If they were presented with the choice, knowing exactly what it would be like, would they do it again? She likes it, but the pain was pretty terrible, so she couldn't say for sure if she'd do it again. Nemo said yes, but he wished he could have had a full life of human experiences first. But it doesn't work that way. He didn't get a choice, and no demoniac ever does.

I'm starting to have serious doubts about Nemo's credibility as far as information on being demoniac goes. He told me that strong emotion could cause her to lose control of herself and be overcome by the demon inside her, yet we had a long night of very emotional shit and nothing of the sort happened. There was a lot of turmoil and a lot of tears, but no demonic urges or loss of control. Maybe inability to control himself is just yet another of Nemo's failings, and he thinks others are as incompetent as he is.

Now that I know the knife is real, that my dream is real, I couldn't keep it from her anymore. I made her promise not to do anything 'magical or drastic' before I told her about it. It feels silly right now as I write this, but I was so wrapped up in my fear and I thought that by telling her about the dream and the knife, she might actually go to Becky's house and steal it to use it on me. (I can't believe I even thought that. I hope she never finds out, because it would make her really sad.)

So I told her about the dream in its entirety. It came out all wrong and out of order and fucked up, but eventually muddled through it. I tried really hard to ease in to telling her that \*she\* was the one who killed me. It didn't really work, she was being a bit dense, and then I blurted out that she seduced me and... well it got crazy awkward. She asked-but-didn't-ask about my feelings of intimacy towards her. I blathered on about how much I like her and miss her. To which she said:

> : You're my favorite person in my life right now
>
>

> : Knowing that you've been afraid to see me has been like having my heart torn out again
>
>

> : I don't know what that adds up to
>
>

... I guess that's better than saying "ew, gross, I hate you." My heart skipped a little when she said I'm her favorite person, actually. But-- I mean, is that a favorite friend kind of thing? Purely platonic? If there's any hint in her messages that she would be romantically interested in me (or any girl for that matter) I can't find it. Or maybe I just don't know how to tell. I'm so new at this, and everything is so confusing and difficult. I almost asked her directly like I did Becky, but then the topic shifted away to other things and it just felt too strange to bring it up again.

I'm not afraid of her, I'm afraid of my feelings for her. When she is around, I will try to do anything she asks. I'm afraid that if she asks me to become a demoniac, that I would go through with it willingly.

> : I... I would never ask
>
>

(Does that mean she wouldn't do it, or that that mean she would do it without asking me?)

As our discussion wound down, I was just exhausted from the whole roller-coaster of emotions and all the crying but I couldn't sleep. My house seemed so cold, empty, and alone. And since I finally said everything, put a voice to what was really scaring me, and had that weight lifted from me, I could no longer stand to be apart from her. I asked if I could come over, and she said okay, but added:

> : I will not seduce you
>
>

I'm surprised how much that hurt. I just wanted a shoulder to cry on, I literally hadn't seen any of my friends or had physical contact with a person in five days. Just a hug would do me a world of good. Of course I didn't expect her to seduce me! I hadn't said anything at all about doing anything intimate, but she felt the need to draw the line anyway. Its the most direct statement she has made about the possibility of "us" becoming something more and she rejected me.

### Public Post 2003-10-22

Hi everyone. I'm sorry I haven't had a lot of posts lately. There has been a lot going on in my personal life that I can't really talk about out of respect for others' privacy. Without going into detail, it is a very serious and life-changing matter that even an adult with tons of support from friends and family would struggle to come to terms with, never mind a teenager living in their own for the first time. Please don't worry, I am fine! I am not the one directly affected. But I am in their circle, and it has been very hard for them and hard for me to watch them go through this.

I know most of you also watch my dA account. The sculpture ((link)) I made last weekend was an outlet for me to work through some of my feelings about this whole situation. I found that working on it was really helpful for me, and I also think it turned out as one of my better pieces. I'm glad that others like it as well. I am grateful for all of the positive feedback and helpful criticism received, and humbled by the response and bids for the piece. The sculpture is now safely on its way to its new owner in New York, who I hope will be very happy with it.

As I said on dA, I am not interested in critique of the technical aspects of this piece because I was just trying to pour my feelings into the clay. And unfortunately I cannot take any commissions for similar works, as I feel they would lack the same emotional impact. But I will be sure to post and share here if I make any more pieces like it.

My art is the best outlet for me, because I can express exactly what I am feeling without being explicit about the cause. The viewer interprets the meaning for themselves, and I have not betrayed anyone's confidence. But today I also feel like writing a little bit about my own feelings... as much as I can without giving away too much, anyway.

I am having trouble sleeping. A few nights ago I had a nightmare about everything going on that I cannot shake. The same imagery has been in my dreams every night this week, and certain topics or words bring those images unbidden to the forefront of my mind. Sometimes it catches me completely by surprise, sometimes it's unavoidable when I'm talking to someone else involved with the situation. When it happens it's really hard for me to remain composed and not just have a total meltdown. I am overwhelmed by fear, grief, anger, and guilt and it can take a while to regain control.

Even once I have recovered in the moment I feel shaken and drained for the rest of the day. I feel disoriented, confused, and tired most of the time. It's like I'm always tensing for the next blow. Combined with my lack of sleep it's no wonder I'm fucking exhausted. I don't know how long I can keep this up.

Some of my 'friends' have been making things worse. Instead of being supportive and understanding, they're making light of the issue like it's no big deal and I'm ridiculous for feeling this way. They want to continue doing our normal activities like nothing is wrong, and I think they talk about how badly I am handling this behind my back. Fucking high school drama BS is what that is -- tearing someone down and talking shit about them for struggling with something really difficult, instead of actually helping them with it.

YES, I am handling this poorly. I know that. It is really hard to deal with alone. I don't want to be a burden to the person directly affected by it. I don't live with my parents, plus they're not part of the people who know about what is going on.  I would like to count on my friends, who \*do\* know the details of the situation, but apparently I can't. I have no one. So yeah, if you're not actually going to help me, you can fuck off with your judgmental bullshit about how I'm handling this, thanks. I'm trying my best.

I know that professional help is an option, and I think I could even convince my dad to find and pay for a therapist if I asked. The problem is that I would have to tell him why, and I'm not able to talk about this with Dad or a therapist or anyone not already involved. It's extremely complicated and private. It would be a violation of trust, and confessing it could land me in a lot of hot water, too.

So that's where I am at: feeling overwhelmed and alone. Writing this down has helped somewhat. I'm sorry it is so vague. But thanks for being a sympathetic ear. <3

EDIT: Thanks everyone for the kind words. I can't respond to every comment. But just to clarify, the issue is not related to abuse, alcohol, or drugs. It is medical in nature and affects their entire life from this point forward.

EDIT x2: I'm just going to delete rude or unhelpful comments. I don't have the energy to argue.

### Private Post 2003-10-22

I don't even know where to begin.

I talked to someone who is like her today, named Nemo. He lied to me and said there is no cure for her condition. I pressed him, and he said that curing her - which would save her immortal soul - would also kill her; there isn't enough of her human bits left to survive without the demon bits. I'm not sure if he was referring to physiology alone or spirituality as well. If it is just the fact that she doesn't have a biological heart anymore, well, heart transplants exist. But if her humanity can never be regained, what is even the point?

I've never felt so helpless, and it just got worse the more he spoke. He said that she is still herself, still in control ... for now. But he also said that any kind of strong emotions would cause her to lose that battle and be overtaken by the demon. So many thoughts raced though my mind, but all along the same vein. It's my fault. Maybe not yet, but it will be. There is no way to untangle this friendship-maybe-something-more without strong emotions and turmoil. Reconciliation or separation -- it doesn't matter. I will be responsible for her undoing.

Around and around in my head, the same thoughts, circling like sharks - sorrow, guilt, hopelessness. A bleak and heavy certainty. It is too much for me to take responsibility for. But I have to try. I must get in control of myself and my own feelings as quickly as possible. I know that suppressing and ignoring my emotions is not healthy and not true control, only the \*illusion\* of control. But I can choose how I act upon them, and for her sake I must choose carefully. (Step one, vent to my journal: check.)

I tried to see her last night but had like an anxiety attack about it while trying to select what to wear and had to cancel. We have been chatting online though. I definitely don't want to completely avoid her or cut her off; that would hurt too much for both of us. But now I am worried that when I \*do\* finally see her in person, it will be too emotional for both of us. Argh! What to do?

The knife is still on my mind and in my dreams. I drew a picture of it and posted it on dA, and I've been searching for similar blades and asking around. It was unfamiliar to her, so that's a good sign. I told her if she is given any knives to get rid of them. There is a very similar blade at the British Museum in London but not identical. I showed the picture to Nemo who didn't recognize it but said it was familiar. I confessed to him how it featured in my dream. His interest in the knife became intense and disturbing.

Nemo gave me some more details about what happened to her and how she was changed. Any of their kind can do it. Even she can do it. (The dream came flooding back to me...) But only those 'of the blood' can survive the process of having their hearts ripped out and replaced with a piece of demon rock. Apparently she is one of those people. The guy who made her, by the name Mirrikh, was intending to create some kind of mindless abomination. The fact that she remained in control and sentient and a person was a complete accident.

There is no word strong enough to convey my hatred for him. I thought I already hated him for making her what she is. But knowing what his intentions were makes it so much worse. I have not felt anything this strongly or intensely before: he must die. He must be stopped, because Nemo said this was not the first or last time he's done this. And Nemo has apparently failed to stop him for many years, so we must be the ones to do it. I blame Nemo for what happened to her as well. If he wasn't so fucking incompetent, she'd still be alive and human.

I drew a picture of him with Nemo's help and sent it to Dozer. The guy is magically hidden to most normal people, making him hard to find. But maybe Dozer will be able to find him cause he's not normal. I am also going to try searching for him myself, even if it is impossible for me. I have to try because I don't think I will be able to rest as long as I know he is still out there. When I do find him, I'll get help from the others. I'm not stupid. I know full well if I tried alone he would kill me and do to me what he did to her. But maybe with all of us (especially Dozer) we can take him.

Multiple times talking to Nemo I almost broke down crying. I'm not sure how I held it together but it was rough. And I realized, talking to him and writing this now, that there is no one I can turn to. The only person I feel close enough to cry with, who would understand what I'm going through, might lose control and become a full demon if I make her have feelings about things. Ugh. This is not about me. It's happening to her, not me, and I have no right to try and make this about me and how I feel. Yet here I am doing it. Why can't I just stop?

So here is the most fucked up part. Mirrikh literally ate her heart, just like I dreamed that she ate mine. And if it was anything like my dream, it was intimate and sensual. It somehow seems worse than just killing her and changing into a demon. He violated her. Hearing it from Nemo just tore me up and filled me with grief and rage. I can only imagine what it was like for her, going through that completely alone... and even now, keeping it to herself. I want to be there for her if she wants to talk about it, but what if opening up makes her lose control?

I have no answers, so I guess I'm going to go to bed and try not to dream.

### Private Post 2003-10-21

It's been three days and I can't stop thinking about the dream. There are other things, that I don't really want to admit or say "out loud" in text. Even just in this private post to myself. But I will try to get it all down, to work through it.

The pain was exquisite. It is dulled now by the passage of time, both in the sense that it doesn't hurt as much and that it is no longer as beautiful. But in my dream it was the most beautiful, the most loving, the most divine. I am not, or at least I hope that I am not, "into" self-harm. Yesterday I cut my hand just a little bit with one of my sculpting tools. It hurt like hell and I have no desire to do it again. Maybe it would be different if she did it, but I don't think so... I think I like the idea, the dream more than "real" pain. I definitely don't like blood or lasting injuries. (My hand still hurts, ow.)

So much troubles me about the dream, not just the pain. I LET her murder me. I didn't run or fight. I didn't cry out. I think... I wanted it. Am I suicidal? Romanticizing death? Feeling guilty about what happened Friday and that I deserve to die? Or maybe that if she wishes me dead, that I could not bear to keep on living knowing that.

Maybe I have a death wish. I did something incredibly stupid last night. I took the teleportation chamber to a random location and found a beautiful spot in a tropical ocean, maybe 50 feet under the surface and no land in sight. And I stripped naked and swam out into it. Holy shit! Swimming naked in the ocean in the middle of nowhere with my only way home 50 feet underwater! My lungs felt like they were on fire just trying to swim to the surface.

I made it without an asthma attack and I don't know how. But I wasn't even all that scared. Was I brave because it didn't even matter if I died? Or maybe ... this part is hard to write. Maybe, just maybe, it would be better if I killed myself where she could never find my body. Then it is on my own terms, under my own control, by my own hand. She has this power over me that I can't name, but by choosing my own death I could steal the power away from her. ... And if she can't find my body, then she can't eat my heart or make me like her.

At least that part I am crystal clear on. The pain and death, I am not so sure... but I do not want her (or anyone) to eat my heart and I don't want to be a monster. Or part demon. Or whatever. I would rather die, and STAY dead, than that.

Does that make me a hypocrite? I don't want to lose her. I definitely don't wish that she had died "for real" instead of becoming what she is. I am having so much trouble talking to her about this. But how can I express that I would rather die than be a monster, that I don't want her to try to "save" me if that was the only option, without her believing that I wish her dead? And how can I ask her to let me go, when I can't do the same for her?

This dream has me all messed up. Something has changed because of it. Before my dream, this was just something happening to her. It was not my problem, and I mean that in the most understanding way possible... that her struggle, her burden, was not at all about ME. It was scary and traumatic and I wanted-- I want to be there to help her through it, and not try to make it about how I am affected by it. That is so selfish and narcissistic.

But since the dream, I have this feeling of ... fate, or destiny. I will die. Soon. Do I take control and choose my own death? I don't want to die. I truly don't. I am not suffering, I don't want to escape this life or cease to exist. I definitely don't want to find out that the Lightless Place is where we go after death and be trapped there with the EDBOs. That would be worse than being a monster, maybe.

When I was fighting to reach the surface -- and maybe even more when I swam back down to the teleportation chamber, because it meant swimming away from air and light which was even harder to do -- I desperately wanted to live. There was no thought of giving up. The more I think about it as I write this, the more resolved I become. I don't want to die. I hope that if anyone ever reads this, they understand that I love life and I am not depressed. There is still so much more I want to do. If you are reading this because I took my own life, it was to avoid a fate far worse than death.

I know how troubled I sound. I know the rumors that will spread, the labels the media will use if this post ever gets out. Heart eating, teleportation, delusions, and a fascination with pain and death. I sound nuts. Probably am.

The smart thing would be to go back to my mom's, to get psychological help, and to never see her again. But I can never be normal again, and I don't want to spend my life struggling to appear normal, going through a desperately long chain of doctors and medications to never really fix the problem. I have a very long life ahead of me (if I leave here) and I can see it stretching away from me, growing darker and more miserable as decades of failed therapy and drugs take their toll.

That's not living. I'd rather die or be a monster than that ... so I guess that's two cases (a life as a medicated zombie or being trapped in the Lightless Place after death) that I feel would be worse than becoming like her. Maybe... maybe there are more exceptions. Maybe it's not the worst thing.

What am I saying??? She isn't human, not anymore. What is worse than losing your humanity? Does she even want to search for a cure? Is she trying at all, or does she not care? She said that a piece of a demon was put into her. But how much... is she... when I talk to her, is it even her at all anymore? Maybe she is already gone, and what I have spoken to the past couple weeks is just a thing that looks like her and has all her memories. But aren't we the sum of our memories? If a monster REMEMBERS being human, feeling love and joy and compassion and kindness, is it human?

(Man I wish I had decided to go to college after all, I'm sure there's some philosophy class that could help me with this. So many good novels and movies about artificial intelligence becoming sentient/sapient, there has to be something.)

If I DO become like her, I wonder how it will feel to read this post, to remember writing it and what I am feeling right now. Will I have remorse for what I lost, or will I justify it to myself? Will I be a tragic figure, wracked with guilt, or will I embrace my nature and believe my past self to be ignorant and incapable of understanding? Will I give myself absolution?

The dream was painful in many ways, and traumatic to experience. But it wasn't scary like a horror movie. What scares me is my reaction to it. My fixation on the knife, my thoughts and actual act of self harm, the crazy stunt that could have killed me out in the ocean. But that's not what scares me the most. It has taken me this long to write it down, it bothers me so much. What scares me the most was that I woke from the dream hot and bothered.

There, I said it. I was incredibly turned on by the dream. If I had been alone I would have touched myself. It was difficult to resist anyway. If she had been there, and no one else ...

I can't continue the thought, because I don't know what I would do. Of course I am not an idiot, I have seen porn and I've messed around in online chat rooms with people who thought I was older than I actually am. But to actually DO something with someone ... I feel like I am expected to learn how to drive a car just from reading the owner's manual and watching a couple racing movies. I don't have a clue where to begin.

Is she even into girls? I've seen the way she looks at boys. The punks when we went star watching. Jay. Krin. Dozer. ESPECIALLY Dozer. About the only guy she hasn't ogled was the incompetent security guard. But not the girls. Not Becky. And who wouldn't fall for Becky, if you were into girls? She's smart, beautiful, and athletic. She's a cheerleader, probably will be captain in her senior year. Prom queen too. She is a good friend. I love that Becky is always kind and upbeat, and she really helped Jay when he needed her. And while I can't stop thinking about her turning into a monster, Becky doesn't judge her. She is accepting. She's perfect.

If she was into girls, she would be into Becky. She deserves Becky, not me. (I'm not sure about how Becky feels about it. It's kind of weird that a junior on the cheerleading squad DOESN'T have a boyfriend - unless she's gay. And there was that rumor about Jasmine and Becky. So maybe...?)

I wasn't too sure myself a few months ago. Maybe I'm still not sure. I have had little crushes before, and I am crushing on her so hard right now. I know I want her, but is it because she's a girl? Or just because she is who she is? Am I interested in guys at all? I don't think that I am, so maybe I should just come out and say it: I think I'm gay.

I am gay and I have a crush on a half-demon monster who I dreamed killed me and ate my heart, and it was the hottest fucking thing ever. Damn I am so screwed up.

Where did she get the knife though?

### Private Post 2003-10-18

It hurt. Oh god, did it hurt. I do not have sufficient words to describe the pain, no "real" experience to compare it to that could ever come close. They say all pain is in your mind. My pain was created whole cloth by my sleeping imagination. I dreamed, and I accepted the dream as reality, and I made real the worst pain my mind is able to conceive of. There is no greater agony that could ever be inflicted upon me, awake or not.

Sure, I have felt pain or even died in dreams before, but this was different. Usually when I dream, a small part of me doesn't quite accept it. I don't think I am a lucid dreamer, but sometimes I have a point of view over my shoulder like a video game character or I control my actions more like an actor in a costume or a puppeteer. I can't direct the rest of the dream, but I just don't quite fit into my own skin. When I dream pain, it's more like an actor portraying pain.

But not this time. This was real. I cannot underscore that enough. I am honestly surprised that there is nothing physically wrong with me, no lasting effects from the agony I felt.

It was a moment between one heartbeat and the next. It was an entire lifetime. I can still see it frozen in my mind's eye, and just picturing it is accompanied by the twinge of remembered pain. It is like the burning sensation I feel in my lungs when I recall one of my bad asthma attacks, only this is centered on a single spot on the upper left side -- where my heart is. And I feel it whenever I picture her face, too. I haven't seen her since the dream, I don't know if I can stand it...

Where did she get the knife? I don't recognize it, and yet it seems so distinct and specific. Short and narrow, with an impossibly thin blade. Little more than a letter opener really, but edged like one of those ceramic Japanese chef knives. Precise. Delicate. Tender. Beautiful. I intimately know every inch of it, sliding effortlessly between my ribs and into my heart. It is so perfect that it must be magic. Is it from the Lightless Place? It fascinates me and I don't know why. If it exists - and I strongly believe that it does - I want to find it, hold it, possess it. And this frightens me. But even as I died, I wondered about the knife.

Other details are more jumbled and confused. Was she above me as I lay on a stone table (yes, like the one in Narnia) - looking me in the eye as she drove the blade home? Was she lying in bed with me, both of us on our sides and me facing away, as she spoke softly into my ear and slipped the knife in my back? Or maybe it was both? Did it actually piece my heart, or did I drown in my own blood from severed blood vessels and punctured lung? Why was she crying? Why didn't I run, or get up, or move at all? Why didn't I cry out, or plead with her to stop?

She ate my heart. I didn't actually dream it, because I woke up when I died. But I know it with the certainty that comes with dreaming, that ability to ken the entire dream world like the narrator of a movie. But in the first few minutes after waking, I couldn't stop thinking about how it was all wrong. To remove my heart, she would have to break ribs and open up my chest, either with a much larger knife or perhaps even her own claws. I am imagining it as I write this, all bloody and gruesome with a gaping hole where my heart should be, her face covered in gore. But that was not my dream. The knife was a gift, a mercy. Where did she get the knife?