But that trick is just to hold on
through all appearances; and so we do,
and yes, I know it's you;
and that is what we will come to, sooner
or later, when it's even darker
than It is now, when the snow is colder,
when it's darkest and coldest
and candles are no longer any use to us
and the visibility is zero: Yes.
It's still you. It's still you.
"Shapechangers in Winter" - Margaret Atwood
Metamorphosis
She erases him with a flick of her wrist. Just a press of a button, and he ceases to exist.
A clean slate is what she tells him, what she thinks she's giving him, but if only she knew. She has no idea how stained his slate is, how it's dripping, gushing red. She has no idea that it's already broken, battered and bruised beyond repair.
She asks him who he'll be, unaware that that's the question that has haunted him, every night since he met her, every night since he left her, and every other night in between. Anyone you want, she says, her voice seductive in his ear. As if it's just that easy. As if he could shed his skin and step seamlessly into someone else. If she only knew just how much he would give for the opportunity.
He comes to realize that he hates himself. The man he has become, the man his past has molded him to be - he hates that man, but even more so, he despises the man she makes him want to be. He doesn't know how to be that man and he's afraid he'll never be able to, and a part of him hates her because she makes him want to try.
For the first time in his life, he finds himself wanting to be different, to be better, to let go of all his rage and all the broken pieces and try to be whole again. But he doesn't know who he is without the dark. He doesn't know how to live in the light. And she is cruel for revealing it to him. She is cruel without even knowing it, dangling those promises in front of him, showing him the life he could have lived if things hadn't gone so far wrong. That's the worst kind of cruelty, the one that's disguised as kindness.
And yet, it's better than nothing. He would rather feel this exquisite agony than nothing at all, would rather have just one glimpse into this life than go the rest of his days never knowing what it's like to be good, to be loved.
But it's not enough. He's greedy, and now that that he's had a taste, he can't help wanting. Wanting more.
Now that he's had a taste of someone else and lived in this different skin, he can't imagine ever going back to the way he was before. His eyes are open now. He has seen the light even as it blinded him and after this, he will never be able to go back to the dark again. He will never want to.
If he could be anyone, he would want to be this man.
He would be a good man.
He would be hers.
…
Fin