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Somewhat Damaged

Canto Four

Memoirs of a Paradox

I have come to the realization that, now, as I look back it has become too late to start over. To let you the truth I don't even know how it really started. It could have quite possibly never happened. I don't know now. I have lost sight of reality, that and a numerous other things. I do not know if I can recollect the events correctly but if you give me your time, for I have so little, I can tell you the tragedy that has become my life. But, don't pity me; I don't need your sympathy! What good is it, anyways? They're nothing but shallow words. You don't even deserve to here my complaints!

You know! There should a grand war, well, another one at least. And if need arises, I shall command my mighty army in a war of attrition. Last man standing, I say. I'll put people like you in the frontlines; I won't even give you a weapon. Your sole purpose would be to draw fire, a lot of it. Oh and how dreadfully expensive war can be! I know! Instead of using costly missile and cannons, I'll send people like you into space, just the people, no ships! Too expensive! Oh heavens! I don't want to ruin my nation's economy for a silly war! There in space I'll equip them with – I don't know, stones – a bomb, a bomb apiece! Yes! And I'll send wave after wave of bomb-hugging morons toward the enemy fleets! What a glorious one-sided battle! Who knows, they might be able to take out a ship or two.

But, hey, if some manage to survive, which I doubt (seeing as most modern navies have automatic targeting), they will be able to and only then will they be able to – no wait, then and only then do they have the right to sympathize; to pity me. To pity anyone. Because you're not being superficial then; how do know to pity if you don't know what suffering really is? Honesty, who do you think you are? You don't even deserve the attention I'm giving you! Shame on me for speaking to the likes of you!

But if you leave. I'll be all alone. I don't know what is worse: speaking to you or being by myself. Well, I guess you're not that bad, company's company. At least, stay with me, until my vision darkens and my hands grow cold. Don't worry about the blood. In fact, the sad truth is I like the blood. It reminds me that I exist, that this is not a random dream of someone's. So, it does not bother me, actually, exposed blood is crimson, my favorite color; like my beautiful eyes. At least, the last time I checked they where.

Well, I better go ahead and tell you about my tragic life before it becomes impossible to do so. But, where do I start – what is that? From the beginning? And where, pray tell, is the beginning? Should I begin my story when I was first born? At the origin of my downward spiral, that has left me the way you see me now? Or, maybe, I should start off the day I first contemplated suicide. Wait, how about the day I was conceived? Hell, my mother has told me about it a dozen times already!

Alright, this is how it happened. When a mommy and daddy really love each other they fuck, and fuck like crazy – what? I'm being serious! Hey, I'm not a princess anymore so I don't have to act like one. Anyways, it was during their honeymoon. Oh! How romantic – as my mother described it: 'the Kingdom was jubilant!' Parades, festivals, -- orgies! Everyone was celebrating the holy matrimony of King Asuza and Queen Misaki! And for my mother – she became a virgin no more. They fucked like cabbits! From what I've been told (Funaho, she's such a gossip!). They planned to use contraceptives, but I guess they could not wait another second, many times over. Doctors couldn't even predict the day I'll be born, they could be off by a whole week! Well, they were off by two – and a half!

I guess what I'm trying to say is that – even from the beginning, people didn't choose to love me. I was not a lovechild. My parents, like every else, was forced to love me. I was – just there, and they were constrained by my presence. I'm just a constant reminder of my mother's uninhibited sex drive.

No wait! That's not the whole story. It was not as joyful as my mother predicted; she felt a little betrayed by Asuza. How would you like to be called your husband's second wife while the other wife is still alive and fucking him! I don't remember my childhood very well but from the pictures I have my mother seemed depressed, kind of 'not there', if you know what I mean. She was always trying to be exuberant no matter what the occasion. I think she tried a little too hard; her 'mask' seems to have graphed itself on to her after all these years.

Besides my little sister, I was never close to anyone. Sasami was never forced into loving me, she chose to love me. I'll tell you, from the very first day, the day she first wrapped her tiny hand around my index finger, I knew we would be close. But I didn't know how close back then; I became bitter at my sister for the longest time. Unlike me, she was planned, in a sense, by my mother when she felt I no longer satisfied her motherly embodiment. She has the lovechild. She was the one who received all the attention, all the benefits of a mother. You know, mother never taught me properly and yet she had enough time in her busy life to teach my little sister the art of cooking; all I got was servants, bloody rude servants!

0.1.5

Note: This is a long preview of Canto Four.