This is something I started thinking about awhile ago. I couldn't sleep so I just started writing. It first started off as just a mini personal memoir and then I added Alex and Olivia to it. It's short because these are just going to be a series of drabbles and prompts whenever I get so fucked up emotionally I need this release. I wanted Alex to be the one to suffer because it's my weakness in fanfiction to see Alex harm herself bi-proxy. So, Somewhere In Nowhere Land is for all the people who: 1. read this, and 2. suffer as I do from time to time. Mood stabilizers go a long way though. oh, and I own nothing but my copious amounts of spelling errors and grammar mistakes. (Maggie and the Ferocious Beast FTW)

"Words don't break bones. I do that for myself."

To whom it may concern,

This is my story and I am reluctant to be reciting my life story to you. These are stories of misery and pain that burrowed deep into my heart and took up residence. My walls are constructed to keep these all these emotions at bay. These walls my around my heart are made of pure concrete, and the concrete is constructed out of heartbreak; self loathing; hatred; and a pure desire to just disappear. I disappear. That's what I do when I get overwhelmed and need some 'air.' I skip town, sleep at random places and walk the streets in the early morning. I disappear so that nobody can find me, but sometimes I think I want to find you, or 'run in to you' randomly. However, everyday it gets harder and harder to not hate myself. You know, it's that feeling as if one person complains about something that pertains to you, you just feel so guilty, and you want to make up for it. You want to do everything you can just so you can sleep easier. Also, you have this perpetual feeling as if you have failed everybody. That's what leads to the broken bones comment.

I remember once, you asked me after making love, "Alex, what happened," I remember at first I had no earthy idea what you were talking about. I was still caught up in the afterglow, and my feelings about myself were a million miles away. They were so far away because I was, for once, complacent. Still trying to understand what you were talking about, I asked you what you meant. That's when you did the sweetest thing possible. You put your hand on my leg in question and you lowered your head, and you kissed the deepest scar. I was so overcome with emotions. These emotions were ones of happiness, in thinking that I finally found someone who cared. They were ones of disgust. I thought this wasn't right that you had such a fucked up lover, and ones of guilt; you didn't need to see me that way. I was most surprised at myself for not crawling back into my little ball of darkness that resides in the place you are tying to reach. After a moment I respond: "Olivia," I stammered, I had no idea why I was about to telling you these things that I have never told another soul. "that is what happens when Love and Death Embrace." and then that's when I lost it. I cried so hard and for so long, that I didn't notice you slipping back up my body, talking me into your arms, and pulling me into you; you molded us together. We were one. "It's ok Alex," you whispered. "Every body has moments of weakness, and those," you said touching my leg again, tracing over the copious amounts of crisscrossed scars. "Are signs of a competitor." All I could do was cry harder. That's all I knew how to do. I had nothing left; I had no secrets, I had no strength left to fight all of these emotions I kept quietly into their respected areas of my mind. "Olivia," I remembered whimpering while I was sobbing, "I'm weak. I'm not a competitor. A competitor could keeps her feelings wrapped up better," I told her this, still not knowing as to why I was being so honest about something I barely recognized as truth. An ADA couldn't do that. No way, she had to be perfect. I've always had to be perfect. "Alex," you whispered "You survived, and that's all that matters. Also, nothing that you do to yourself will ever make my think twice about loving you." you pulled me in closer. I was so devoid of human contact for so long that it felt awkward that somebody was in my personal space. I normally hate after sex "cuddling" and I still wasn't convinced that this wasn't a dream created by the powers that be that reside below the earth. I normally get up and leave after I've had my fill. Wine, dine, and sex me and I'm good until I hate myself, once again but, this was different. I wasn't reluctant to be close to you. It was so wired. It was liked I needed this. I needed your strength, because it's was if you knew I didn't have any of my own left. I Iayed into your arms, just laying there because I honestly had nowhere to go, and god knows that I didn't want to be alone after my guilty confession. After what seemed like forever, you asked me one question, and this question I will never, ever forget: "Alex, do you welcome death?" you steadily said. Most would find offence to that, but I knew differently. I knew that you didn't say that out of malice or contempt. You weren't trying to "change me" or make me "see the errors of my ways." You said this as if you had experienced the same omnipotent presence of death. As if you too, have felt the heavy weigh of death sitting on your chest, and you too have felt his legs crushing your sides with his and while his hands are on your throat, making you gasp for air. I was silent for a moment, actually considering the answer. "Yes, Olivia, I do," I told you. You then pull me closer. I didn't even know there was any space left between us. "But," I continued, "not when I am with you."
"Me either," you replied. I just cried until I fell asleep. I remember, after that night, I hated myself for the longest time. We occasionally met up for sex here and there, but we both know that you wanted more and I couldn't give you that. I remember that next day I woke before you did, but before I left I did something I have never done. I wrote you a note.
"Thank you. Love, A," it said. I was all I could write to you. I don't think two words could ever have meant as much as those did.

Those are the memories that I love to hate. They keep me alive, but yet they leave me so empty. I've hated a lot of people and things in life. I've lied, cheated and coveted so many times that I forget that I am even worth the title, "human."
I sometimes look back at us, at what could have been. Then I get this sensation that I am not worth the energy for you to waste tiring to fix me. To me, everyday is an arms race. "Let's see who kills me first. Myself or Death. Let's see who is faster and who can get away from one another the fastest." That's what I think everyday, because I know if I don't keep alert about the shadow sitting behind me, He will take no mercy onto me when he finally kills me. I take a no holds bar stance on my emotions. To me, broken bones and broken lungs mean only a bad day. Keep on moving so you don't get ran over, right? Keep moving, so shadows created by my nightmares will never catch up. Be a million miles away, out of sight, out of mind, I say. That's what I do, and it keeps me alive. J'habite pour la mort, remember? That is what I have to do, but I know it's not right. Is there something more in life or am I doing the right thing by not being with you? I want to know, I need to know. I need this knowledge, because I have this feeling that if you are beside me every step of the way, the flickering shadows in my peripheral vision will finally go home to the devil.

ps. translation: I live for (the) death.