Happy Christmas all. *blows a hospital up*
Chapter 10: The Perfection in a Broken Vase
Song: Yellow by Coldplay
Untouchable. Mad. Somehow though, utterly perfect.
Here in the womb of his mind does he reside. The room is pure polyutherane, and glass, that is unshatterable and a pure, perfect sphere of ideals and madness. There is nothing that can break him from bondage to this room. Here, anarchy and order sit on the same pedestal. Here, ugliness and beauty are one and the same. There can be no difference between the opposites, for he condradicts himself. One moment, he is God; perfect and uncorruptable. Yet within the next second he is Satan; raging, demonic, and laughing.
He is so used to being two different people, he can never be one with himself but in the little room, where everything is beautiful and ugly; perfect and broken. He glows brightly, like the most brilliant star. He is scum; a bastard who does not deserve life or love. He is forever remaking himself. He is never the same more than two days in a row, and every time there is a new persona to be had, the others are discarded as though they never existed. Though these many different people inhabit the same body, they are not the same person.
His eyes glimmered that day as he stared out at the stars. Perhaps he wonders what they are made of, or how they are so bright. He is just like these stars today; brilliant and beautiful, a testament to the genius of the Superior Being. Tomorrow he will be testy and he will scream. The stars will be clouded over tomorrow. It will rain tomorrow. But relish the fact that he is grinning now, because you can never see happiness so pure as his.
In the Joker, you can truly see the perfection in a broken vase.