Don't die, not yet

I remember those nights. There were so many nights when all you wanted was to die. Not to kill yourself, because that would imply you hadn’t wanted to have a life, but just to wake up dead, wake up wherever you weren’t here anymore, away from me and what I was doing to you. All the magic that used to enchant you was now a sickening lullaby, suffocating the light out of your eyes. What used to be beautiful summer nights with crickets and cicadas singing outside your bedroom window, frogs and katydids harmonizing, breathing life into what would have been lonely silence, serenading you to sleep; now it was an endless chant, counting time, all the seconds you had to remain, ONE TWO THREE FOUR. A droning metronome that would never stop its endless ticking. Like Chinese Water Torture, the slow, irregular, ice-cold drip of my punishments were having their intended effect.

Of course, I heard you talk about suicide being a potential consequence of what I was doing to you, but I never took that seriously. I used the big “S” word daily on my blogs to elicit sympathy, start conversations with strangers and create a sense of feeling loved, wanted. You had witnessed me offing my blog characters, who had been well established for years, complete with “friends” and communities. Most of their friends were me, and they would do the announcement of their passing, but some of their friends were real, and they would do the emotional outpouring. It’s a cheap trick, very contrived. I knew what you were up to with your transparent manipulations. Not going to work on me, babe.

I couldn’t quite decide if I would be upset or elated if you had actually gone through with it. Each time I imagined all the possible outcomes I found them equally satisfying. But when I started to imagine the aftermath, no longer having a direct line to your energy, I realized I needed to tread a bit more lightly with your emotions. I have a lot of sources, and at the risk of inflating your sense of self-worth I will say your supply is top quality. It would certainly equal a loss for me.

With age comes maturity. I have since abandoned such primitive techniques for eliciting the raw emotions I crave from you and others. These days my desires are more nuanced and require a more intricate response in order for me to feel sated. Simply wanting to die is far too pedestrian and hack. I’m working on a more elevated recipe for my future narratives. Stay tuned.