The Nightshade Princess
punk princess for a day
LesTaT and I went to Heather's party last night... I
think I may have mentioned this, but I know I did not go
into any detail, due to the frustration of forced internet
time limits which have but recently been placed upon me.
The night seemed to last forever, like the night of our
school homecoming dance. Another eve of perfection...
another eve together. We shared a few slices of cheeseless
pizza (I made him eat), and some red hots. We laughed and
joked with everyone there. Tony, the forbidden one, also
showed up. I'm actually surprised father dropped me off
when he saw his car in the drive. Tony seemed unhappy, and
it only got worse as the night wore on. It did not occur
to me until later that, given our past and forced
separation, it may have hurt him a bit to see LesTaT and I
together as we were. I truly thought he moved on,
though... but I could have been wrong. He told me this was
not the case, but I don't know if I believe him, the way he
was looking at me, the way he seemed to fade whenever I
tried to talk to him. I also wonder about miniature L.
He, too was upset toward the beginning. He would not talk
to me at all, and had nearly begun to cry when I mentioned
it to Heather and they went off to talk.
I kept losing my ring, and when my love once placed it
on my finger, I smiled and told him one day it wouldn't be
just a thumb ring... I am so certain of this relationship.
It is so very blessed and beautiful! He had to steady me a
bit, as I had begun to feel strangely again. My
equallibrium was a bit off, and the room spun and dipped
about when it should have stayed still.
He was not at school this day... I was quite
worried. Usually, if he is not at school, there is a reason other
than physical illness. He and I, as well as my father, had terrible
days today. I just woke in an odd, decadent mood (I felt and acted
like a punk), and I fought the catatonia that stalked me once more.
That heavy daze I cannot banish, comingled with melancholy. By third
period, I'd succomed once again. Indeed, it feels as though I am
dying, or else slipping into a coma. First, my eyes do not focus,
then my body becomes heavy and increasingly difficult to move, then a
drowsiness settles in like fine snow. My mind, too, soon loses it's
abilities to focus, and I do not hear, nor see, and the other senses
follow suit. It startles some people, when they try to talk to me
and I do not respond, only stare straight ahead, and do not even
change expressions when they touch me or wave their hand in front of
me. The only way I seem to be able to get out is when there is a
specific reason why I MUST, and this finally reaches me, and I fight
my way out of the bubble, though I KNOW this must take time to
accomplish, judging by the looks of those around me. I've been told
all manner of stories about what people have tried to do in order to
get my attention in such a state... they touch me, wave their hands
in front of my face, call my name over and over again. Sometimes
they stick their faces inches from my own, only to find it does not
work, or perhaps in after a few minutes I can finally break free....
When I write now, as I have begun again, it is so terribly full
of poison and sadness, several shades darkner than
what I used to write. Early Sunday morn, I lit some rose incense and
sat alone with my thoughts and a pencil and paper. What emerged in a
fit of passionate writing was a song, beautifully rhymed and with a
good form, but so full of darkness and loathing and raw energy I was
startled right out of my little grey pajamas... as were a few of my
friends when they read it.
Is there to be no peace in my