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OVER - a memoir.

This forum is for members to share their original prose, poetry, and even fan fiction. Please be aware that The RP Collective takes plagiarism very seriously and will uphold the relevant laws.

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Re: OVER - a memoir.

Post by Eri » Wed Sep 05, 2018 11:24 am

59.

My name is Aten.

Attention must always be placed on me.

I pretend that nothing bothers me, but most things in fact do bother me—I’m just not man enough to say it. I can’t handle being with a group of people, because I want everyone’s attention and I can’t have it.

Red is my favorite colour, because it represents power. That’s what I want to have. Power.

Unfortunately, I have no drive or initiative, leaving me without any authority or a purpose. In my quest for attention and superiority over others, I use what little brain power I have to make fun of people and put them down. I’ve done this for so long that I don’t know how to act normally around people. It has become what I am.

Occasionally, I’ll find the will to repent for my actions. I’ll think about being nice to people and give them compliments. I’ll think about being humble around other people. I’ll think. But I won’t act.

I was student body president of my high school. The reason: no one else wanted to do it. It wasn’t like I beat out three valedictorians for the position—it was simply a lack of interest that led to my victory.

A meaningless victory.

I know I seem like some kid who hates his life right now, but that’s not true. I like what’s going on in my life—it’s just that I need to change. I don’t know if I can, though. My ego and pride are massive and consume me in everything I do.

I know I’m not perfect. There are many things wrong with me.

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Re: OVER - a memoir.

Post by Eri » Wed Sep 05, 2018 11:25 am

60.

My name is Ione.

I’m the girl who can never be wrong.

I am afraid of many things. I wear a facade to make people think that I am invincible, but if I love you, you have the power to break me with just a few words.

I am afraid that I create ideals of people and force them to fit into my cookie-cutter world. I am afraid that I am addicted to romance. I am afraid.

I let myself be stepped on in the name of sacrifice. I want to be able to say that I know what it feels like to love somebody until death, but you know what? I don’t know how that feels like. My life has been a huge rollercoaster and it is so hard for me to distinguish the past from present.

I am a mess and at times, I am proud of it.

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Re: OVER - a memoir.

Post by Eri » Fri Sep 07, 2018 11:28 am

61.

When I left college to go home for the holidays, I didn’t talk to Ione at all.

This is the one time that I think I can say that I truly forgot about her completely.

She wasn’t even in the back of my mind.

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Re: OVER - a memoir.

Post by Eri » Fri Sep 07, 2018 11:28 am

62.

Strange nights like this one, when I put away the food, or stare at the dishes and wish it was our home, together.

Aten’s friend invited me to her wedding in his state, maybe his city. I confess: I would give almost anything to see him.

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Re: OVER - a memoir.

Post by Eri » Fri Sep 07, 2018 11:36 am

ILLAPA










113.

September 2012
From: Aten
To: Ione


I’m not as sweet as I’ve led you.

I am not any one character at any given time nor are these my only personalites, but they are personalities that are a part of me.

A.
This is the personality that I exhibit most often. I only have a few very close friends, although am liked by most people. I make sure not to display my elitism, making other people think they are friends with me. I am a humble victor, though I have a hidden ego I must feed.

Mental intelligence and physical prowess are equally important to me, and while I understand the importance of verbal charisma, I attract followers moreso through actions. I think creatively, act reactively, and it is easy for me to pinpoint weaknesses and exploit them to my advantage.

I am very open to other people’s thoughts, but most often take their ideas and alter them into my line of thinking. My motivation for training and learning is the final product.

I accept nothing but success.

I have an issue with being too critical of myself, however. During times of loss, I feel as if the blame is solely mine, unless the fault is glaringly elsewhere.

B.
If I am ever able to convince myself or allow myself to come to terms with a certain role, complete domination comes naturally. Whenever I get off my high-horse and relinquish control, I obsess over my job and strive to be the absolute best possible.

Flawless, fast, methodical.

It’s my role in the grand scheme of things. It’s what I can contribute.

C.
People know I am capable. They will be my followers when they have something to gain from it, but the moment they feel they don’t need me—

They morph, grotesque, the swiftest of transitions into hyenas and vultures.

I’m tossed aside.

I’m gone. I leave. I walk away. But when things fall apart, when they realize their utter uselessness, their incompetence and lack of capability, they come crawling back, asking me to return, to resume the role I was playing.

I have people’s respect when they need me.

Something that happens quite often to me is that I’ll be part of a group. One person will test the waters and I’ll just brush it off because I don’t care. Because I don’t fight back, because I think it would be stupid to do so, everyone starts turning on me, throwing out their own jokes, things they had obviously repressed beneath a pathetic coat of humility.

I think most of it is jealousy.

They exist on a plane of lower intelligence. They’re friends with me because I’m good, but they secretly don’t like me being better.

Everyone feels it’s safe to come out because they have strength in numbers.

D.
This is the personality you don’t like. I think I am better than everyone, and I’m mostly right, although other people argue against it—because I’m outright saying it. I am arrogant. I become mad if I am not shown the respect I think I deserve. People are attracted to my power and I allow them to follow, so long as they serve a purpose to.

People are disposable.

I don’t need anyone. I thrive, completely independent of any miserable remnants—attachments, relationships, obligations, duties—they are optional, washed under the shores of my mind. My closest friends are enemies the moment they question my actions.

I do not care about other people’s emotions. I am interested in emotions, but only because they drive other people’s actions.

This personality comes out when I become bored with all of the bullshit. I am the only person who matters. You can ride my coat tails if you want, but do not question me. I am the best, and you should follow me because of it.

Your reward for following me are the crumbs I leave behind as I feast on everything on my way to the top.

If that’s not good enough for you, then you’re missing out.

If that’s not good enough for you, then you can get the fuck away from me.


Last edited by Eri on Fri Sep 07, 2018 11:43 am, edited 1 time in total.

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Re: OVER - a memoir.

Post by Eri » Fri Sep 07, 2018 11:38 am

114.
Your problem with me is that you have always tried to understand me. I cannot be understood.

Remember when I told you about thinking of people I know and having to choose between two of them with the other dying? I shouldn’t think about things like that. It wasn’t amusing for me to think about, but I couldn’t stop.

A spider beside her.

Standing in line with my friends in college, waiting to go into a haunted house on Halloween.

The line is not really a line.

I’m developing a system and corresponding program that colour codes groups of people in the disorganized line. Each person is given a colored dot with the rest of their group. The program is played and the colored globs crawl like amoebas, lapping, overlapping. My friends are laughing. Someone told a joke. I laugh too.

Paranoid after watching a horror film. I go outside to listen to music and chill out. It’s dark, but there’s a few people outside. A girl greets me as she walks past. In two years of walking outside at night, no one has ever casually greeted me in passing. Feel kind of weirded out and stunned. Turn around and she’s not there. I question her existence. Was she someone sent to calm my nerves? Why would I question if someone was real? Why would I think any of this?

I really do feel like there’s someone else in my head. This person is also me. We tell each other things, mostly in thought, but it really does feel like I’m communicating with another person. Another me that thinks just like I do.

I can never be okay with anything. If things are going well, they’re not going well enough. It needs to be improved somehow. If it can’t be improved, then it’s not worth my time. Toss it aside.

You’re scratching your thumb nail with your other thumb nail thinking to yourself how to end this email. You’re thinking about yourself thinking about it.

Maybe other people think the way I do sometimes. I should make it understood that this is me all the time. It doesn’t turn off.

I have many different personalities and many different ways of thinking. If you would stop trying to understand why I do something or say something, it’d be okay. This might make me unpredictable and hard to read, but that’s okay. I’m a magnet, and people are mysteriously attracted to me in some way. You also have some irrational fear that you’re meaningless to me.

Yes, you’re mysteriously attracted to me the same way other people are. Do I like you more than most other people? Yes, most of the time.

Other times, you disrespect me.

Last edited by Eri on Fri Sep 07, 2018 11:43 am, edited 1 time in total.

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Re: OVER - a memoir.

Post by Eri » Fri Sep 07, 2018 11:39 am

115. October 2012
From: Ione
To: Aten


(No Subject)

Hello.

I read your email.

I’ll see you around.


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Re: OVER - a memoir.

Post by Eri » Fri Sep 07, 2018 11:40 am

116.

“Hey, we can still make out, right?”

I laughed. “What the fuck, Aten?”

“I’m drunk! Be nice. Just asking.”

“I’m trying to be a good friend!”

“Me too!”

Pause. “By making out with me? Honey, friends don’t do that to be nice.”

“It’ll be fun.”

“It would be the start of never being done ever until one of us gets married.”

“I’m just trying to get this out of the way. Otherwise I’m going to be hitting on you all the time.”

“You’ll forget when sober anyway.”

“I won’t forget when sober.”

“Aten.”

“I won’t touch anyone else. What else do you want?”

“Let’s try being platonic first!”

“You’re like the only girl I want. Now what am I supposed to do?”

“That’s not true and you know it. There are seriously plenty of other girls, and you’re gorgeous, you can get someone who doesn’t have bitch mode settings.”

“You don’t get it. I want to have you. I don’t know why, but just you.”

“Okay, now you’re just buttering me up.”
Last edited by Eri on Fri Sep 07, 2018 11:44 am, edited 1 time in total.

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Re: OVER - a memoir.

Post by Eri » Fri Sep 07, 2018 11:41 am

117.

January, 2013. My life was falling apart, and I grasped at whatever thread I could, a semblance of normalcy. I had dated three others after Aten, but it was the last relationship that tipped everything over the edge of chaos.

The one thing that reminded me how to wake up every morning was Aten—how much I had survived, with Aten. How miniscule any other heartbreak would ever be.

These days, painkillers shot through my bloodstream and these days, Aten was never sober, for months became an alcoholic with dreams of world domination in hyperdrive. I was his perpetual drunk dial, flimsy comfort under the guise of history, familiarity, a South Atlantic delusion.

“Can’t promise I’ll be sober,” he said, laughing. 2 AM, wherever he was. “Be a good girl.”
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Re: OVER - a memoir.

Post by Eri » Fri Sep 07, 2018 11:42 am

118.

“Ione. Tonight is the most drunk I’ve ever been.”

I stared at the phone. “Are you okay?”

“I’m sorry for everything between us.”

“Aten—”

“I’ll talk to you later. Someone’s helping me with this—”

I laughed, strained—“Don’t be sorry. I still plan to hunt you down and move in when we’re old and wrinkly.”

“Ew, that’s gross.”

“So I’ll see you when we’re gross.”

“We’ll see each other before then. Take care.”

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Re: OVER - a memoir.

Post by Eri » Fri Sep 07, 2018 11:44 am

119.

I met Leon by accident shortly after Aten met Anna.

I didn’t know who he was, only that he was beautiful and lonely.

He played guitar for me, and I started to cry.

He told me he loved me. I told him I loved him too.

When Aten told me about Anna, I was happy for him. I was happy—and I didn’t know why my chest had crumpled in upon itself.

Anna was the one who had helped him through our breakup. He was seeing her for about three months.

After he told me about her, I dated Leon for four years.

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Re: OVER - a memoir.

Post by Eri » Fri Sep 07, 2018 11:46 am

ERIS










120.
Here I am, forever indebted, waiting.

Always, waiting. Waiting for when you will call for me. Waiting for when you will need me. Unashamed of your shame, unabashed by the way you disguise my existence. It is of no importance to me.

“There you are.”

Smirking, the summer sun reflected on your shades, your car. Raised brows and that easy, easy way you moved your hands. Everything else around us was brown dust and flat gray road. “You getting in?”

I smile. “Of course.”

You drive me to a motel, a two-star pledge of permanent objectivity. We make love.

You smoke a cigar. I stare at the ceiling.



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Re: OVER - a memoir.

Post by Eri » Fri Sep 07, 2018 11:47 am

121.
In a sense, you were half the men I’d ever met. You are exhausting, a never ending goddamn cliff that just goes on and on, up and up. What was it that Einstein once said? The difference between stupidity and genius is that genius has its limits?

Limitless, that’s what you are. And as you stand, light-eyed and untouchable, I realize that I hate you.

It is slow and sweet, pressing softly, burying itself into my throat and flowing down the pit of my stomach. I hate you.

Your back is wounded from my nails and my voice is young, hoarse: “You’re leaving?”

Hate and exhaustion, one after the other, over and over and over, looped like a badly chosen playlist on the radio. Still, I want you to stay. Still I want you to turn and smile, tell me you want to have coffee with me. That your castle is my castle and you are interested in my miserable existence. But unlike those who burn from within and insist they are ice externally, you insist you are alive but inside, you are fucking gone. Empty, was that the word?

“Want coffee?” The words were out my tired mouth, lipstick smudged with your kiss.


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Re: OVER - a memoir.

Post by Eri » Fri Sep 07, 2018 11:48 am

122.
I am a puppet injected with your voice. I am a blank canvas marred only by your name. I am your grandmother’s Absinthe, your mother’s overzealous pride. I am every woman who overlooked you in childhood, and every woman who claws their way into your exquisite four-poster bed. I am the taste of bile as you double over, drunk. I am the curse of boredom as you realize you cannot escape your own mind. I am that smoke on your fucking cigar.

“There’s never a good time, with you.” The words were a murmur, lost in the mass of hair, cheap pillow cases, peeling walls. I am not sure if you hear me. Feigned ignorance is your strongest hand and your watch glints in the setting sun. Winks, chuckles. I realize what it is really telling me: I am only 6:00 to 6:30, nothing more.

Did I really just ask so that you would say no?

At times I feel like a snake, hungry to be left behind, begging you to crush me beneath your heel in order to feel something, anything. I stand naked, walk in front of you. Stare at you for the most fleeting of seconds before bending over and picking up my dress, worth only a fraction of the cologne you wear.

Self-pity is unattractive, so I bite my lip, ignore my wounds.


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Re: OVER - a memoir.

Post by Eri » Fri Sep 07, 2018 11:49 am

123.
I was a child, licking honey from your fingertips, fed by your frightening dreams. You had never once tried to hide glances for other women from me, yet I had hidden them myself, satisfied with how little I knew. The walls around me, I had built myself, and in my hatred of you, I had glorified you. Look at me now, nonsensical. I owe my thoughts to a million coffee dates without you, a thousand books whose pages have been rubbed raw by insomnia. Tonight, I am wild. Tonight, you are—

You smile, or perhaps it is nothing, and I have imagined it. You understand my track record, the stumbling, bumbling list of men besides you and the only difference between you and I is that you find pleasure in pushing your women away.

Unexpectedly, you call out.

“Hey.”

My chest is deciding whether or not it is a hammer. I turn, despite my good intentions. Your blonde is waiting behind the tinted glass.

“Hey,” I reply.

You nod and get in, shut your door. I remain standing. Your car does not move for a while. When it does, the night is a little more alien, a little more cruel.



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Re: OVER - a memoir.

Post by Eri » Fri Sep 07, 2018 11:49 am

124.
You’re the problem—

I’m the problem.

I wish I could tell you that it has been a long time since I have believed in love. I wish I could tell you that, by some haphazard butchering of my childhood, the credence had all but decayed. No, what I have is infinitely worse—a persistent belief continuously demolished by that candour in your voice.

I notice your broken pinkie finger that you said you acquired while playing high school basketball. Who the hell would notice that? Who would even remember such a minor detail, except me? Me, the indelible print on your otherwise flawless script. Me, the accident. Me, the mistake. Me, the spell you cannot break. I laughed when you said I was a spell but baby, I remember. I remember that night, you drunk in this very apartment, spouting words that would make Shakespeare blush. And that was that. That was all. How could my life hinge on one drunken night?

I run trembling fingers through my hair, darkness itself, the depth to your light.

“I love you,” I said, and I wasn’t sure if it was truth or a plea.



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Re: OVER - a memoir.

Post by Eri » Fri Sep 07, 2018 11:50 am

125.
You hand me my drink and I throw it in your face.

I feel old, I feel ancient, the ocean before it let her grasp on land go. My mind is lapping, overlapping, water. Water, on my fingertips, water like alcohol on your face, your chiselled, beautiful face. Each angle, carefully measured. Each curve of bone, delicate. I spill alcohol on your face hoping to mar the beauty but instead you just turn, all you do is turn, and I spit at you, dare you to hit me, slap me, strike in vain at the match that held no fire at all.

“You are so full of shit,” I say, voice low. “You have no fucking idea what the hell you are doing.”

My dress is torn and your gaze gravitates. I make no move to cover anything—I am already stark naked before you. I always have been.




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Re: OVER - a memoir.

Post by Eri » Fri Sep 07, 2018 11:51 am

126.

I have scarcely left you
When you go in me, crystalline,

Bury me, tonight. Make love to my ghost for years to come.

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