Two (Love)
How is it that my soul can't read my soul? Every day terror haunts me, I wake up with cockroaches in my mouth, I walk around on sharp knifes like the goddamn little mermaid - and she smiles at me, the same smile I fell for: affectionate, sexy as hell, but always a little removed. Is it that she can't help feeling superior, in spite of the obvious attraction she still feels for me? How can she smile at all the filth and anguish I carry around with me and that's threatening to choke me? Can't she feel it, can't she fucking *sense* it?? Beverly can sense it, Geordi can, Data certainly can, even Worf has been giving me odd looks, and the captain... well, no, the captain has never been all that sensitive when it comes to me. But Deanna, my Imzadi...? Oh my love, why have you left me?
Maybe the answer is closeness. She is me and I am her, and being one it is difficult to know things for what they are. She may not be seeing this darkness, or she may be taking it for her own. We all have our darkness...
Maybe the answer is love. It is never what we expect, never what we want. Or is it the end of love? If everything is coming to an end, if what I thought was myself is falling apart, why wouldn't my love vanish too? This thought would have killed me a year, six months ago, but now nothing stirs inside me, I am numb. Maybe I never loved her, and she never loved me.
I saw her naked and went after her, then we made love in a forest and she called me her Imzadi. I had never been anything for anyone since my mother died, and now I was this beautiful woman's Imzadi. Her first one, her beloved. How could I *not* give her my heart and live my life through her, through her coming and her going, her presence, her absence, her looks and her loves...?
Is this what I did: sell my soul? And what for: to belong.
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Hurt me. Hurt me, come on hurt me, I deserve it! Hit me, split this head open, so all the darkness can pour outside and leave me behind a blank, a nothing... oh for nothingness! Hit me harder! Come on...
"You are not concentrating!" I have made him angry. Good.
"Oh, I am concentrating Worf. Maybe you're just too good for me. That's why I practice with you, I would go for nothing but the best."
"No. You had reached a much higher level long before today, Commander. You seem to have lost the most basic skills. If we continue, I will seriously hurt you."
"Well, if you hurt me, I will have deserved it. C'mon, let's go on." I am losing the heat, I long for the rush of fury,and then the pain, and then nothing - for a short, merciful time.
"Commander..."
"Do I have to make this an order?"
"I will not be the one to punish you."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"You have been fighting as if you wanted to be hurt. And not only today, but for many weeks past.At first I thought you were using the bat'leth training to focus your mind, as I do sometimes. But our praticing is clearly not helping you. I do not wish to continue."
"In case you overheard it the first time, I'll say it only once more: you will continue to be my sparring partner as long as I se fit. This is a direct order by a superior officer."
"You are also my friend, and I will not assist you in your attempts at self-destruction."
He's leaving me, even he...
"Don't go, Worf, please..." This is what I am now, a weak, whimpering excuse for a human being, down on my knees begging to this beautiful, strong, noble-minded creature.
"How can I help you?"
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Last night, she came to me. She was as I always remember her. The uniform, the suspicious look in her eyes, the half-smile that didn't quite dare to become a laugh. I never really saw her laugh, but I was confident I would, some day. That was back then, when the future still existed.
I ran to her, and she didn't dissolve as I touched her, and I cried for the sheer miracle to be allowed to hold on to something, to someone. She held my hands in hers and kissed my lips many times. She couldn't speak because she was dead, but with her eyes she told me of the place she came from, of things of brightness and light, and she told me it was allright if I wanted to hold those things in my mind, even though I wasn't dead yet.
I am not dead. Who can tell me if I want to live?
How is it that my soul can't read my soul? Every day terror haunts me, I wake up with cockroaches in my mouth, I walk around on sharp knifes like the goddamn little mermaid - and she smiles at me, the same smile I fell for: affectionate, sexy as hell, but always a little removed. Is it that she can't help feeling superior, in spite of the obvious attraction she still feels for me? How can she smile at all the filth and anguish I carry around with me and that's threatening to choke me? Can't she feel it, can't she fucking *sense* it?? Beverly can sense it, Geordi can, Data certainly can, even Worf has been giving me odd looks, and the captain... well, no, the captain has never been all that sensitive when it comes to me. But Deanna, my Imzadi...? Oh my love, why have you left me?
Maybe the answer is closeness. She is me and I am her, and being one it is difficult to know things for what they are. She may not be seeing this darkness, or she may be taking it for her own. We all have our darkness...
Maybe the answer is love. It is never what we expect, never what we want. Or is it the end of love? If everything is coming to an end, if what I thought was myself is falling apart, why wouldn't my love vanish too? This thought would have killed me a year, six months ago, but now nothing stirs inside me, I am numb. Maybe I never loved her, and she never loved me.
I saw her naked and went after her, then we made love in a forest and she called me her Imzadi. I had never been anything for anyone since my mother died, and now I was this beautiful woman's Imzadi. Her first one, her beloved. How could I *not* give her my heart and live my life through her, through her coming and her going, her presence, her absence, her looks and her loves...?
Is this what I did: sell my soul? And what for: to belong.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hurt me. Hurt me, come on hurt me, I deserve it! Hit me, split this head open, so all the darkness can pour outside and leave me behind a blank, a nothing... oh for nothingness! Hit me harder! Come on...
"You are not concentrating!" I have made him angry. Good.
"Oh, I am concentrating Worf. Maybe you're just too good for me. That's why I practice with you, I would go for nothing but the best."
"No. You had reached a much higher level long before today, Commander. You seem to have lost the most basic skills. If we continue, I will seriously hurt you."
"Well, if you hurt me, I will have deserved it. C'mon, let's go on." I am losing the heat, I long for the rush of fury,and then the pain, and then nothing - for a short, merciful time.
"Commander..."
"Do I have to make this an order?"
"I will not be the one to punish you."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"You have been fighting as if you wanted to be hurt. And not only today, but for many weeks past.At first I thought you were using the bat'leth training to focus your mind, as I do sometimes. But our praticing is clearly not helping you. I do not wish to continue."
"In case you overheard it the first time, I'll say it only once more: you will continue to be my sparring partner as long as I se fit. This is a direct order by a superior officer."
"You are also my friend, and I will not assist you in your attempts at self-destruction."
He's leaving me, even he...
"Don't go, Worf, please..." This is what I am now, a weak, whimpering excuse for a human being, down on my knees begging to this beautiful, strong, noble-minded creature.
"How can I help you?"
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Last night, she came to me. She was as I always remember her. The uniform, the suspicious look in her eyes, the half-smile that didn't quite dare to become a laugh. I never really saw her laugh, but I was confident I would, some day. That was back then, when the future still existed.
I ran to her, and she didn't dissolve as I touched her, and I cried for the sheer miracle to be allowed to hold on to something, to someone. She held my hands in hers and kissed my lips many times. She couldn't speak because she was dead, but with her eyes she told me of the place she came from, of things of brightness and light, and she told me it was allright if I wanted to hold those things in my mind, even though I wasn't dead yet.
I am not dead. Who can tell me if I want to live?