Stockholm Syndrome and other Cosmic Jokes
There are many versions to my story. They all start and end the same: Doctor Harleen Quinzel in Arkham Asylum goes to study the Joker, ends up in a bath of chemicals and turns into his lover and sidekick Harley Quinn.
However, it's all about how these events came to be the present situation. Some say I was seduced, others say I was forced. Lemme break it down for ya: I chose him.
He didn't seduce me - I knew he was lying about his abusive past -, he also didn't threaten or forced me to anything. I jumped. Roughly 5 seconds of glorious free-fall that felt like a beautiful century of freedom.
I was his.
And he was mine.
Back at the Asylum, the Joker could be easily analyzed as the perfect, nearly archetypal sociopath, being cold and unsympathetic to any form of life or feeling.
Bullshit.
Ever since we've been together, I see how that is bullshit. It's true, he has his way of loving - very subtle, quite cold and posessive -, but also I have mine - extremely obvious, sticky and obsessive-. It feels just like the perfect match.
Yes, I know I was being used when it all started. Our long stand up nights were more tragic than comic in the first place. I was a thing to get him out of Arkham. I know. I already knew it the very second I jumped into the chemicals. But a good joke always starts with a little drama, doesn't it?
He fell for me and I fell for him even more. Still a tough man to love, but love's always hard, ain't that right? To give yourself the chance to live madness is more than a psychological, nearly artistic (if not cathartic) experience. It's to be free. To give in to that nihilism and realize that you just might wanna enjoy the ride while you're still alive.
And boy, how he makes me feel alive.