Todays Guest Posting, from a friend who I hadn't considered Gothic - until now.
*sits down, lights a cigarette, pours some Jack Daniels and waits to give her a hug afterwards*
I will be Guest Goth. My cheery exterior is covered by a very dark and maudlin human with far too many feelings. Since I told Goth I would one day write something and yesterday was absolutely the gothiest I have to offer as of present, I will tell the tale.
It started out like any other desperate day to get money. I clean my best friend's apartment to make it through the week. Ouch already. My profession is a respected one but consists of never doing what you were trained to to do or have the talent for in the first place but dealing constantly with people who like to blame all their emotional problems on you, paperwork and government jabber and bullshit.
Then I got the phone call.
I have two friends very deep in to the S&M scene. They don't know each other, and I don't tend to talk about it unless they volunteer the information. As I have enough pain inside I don't feel the need to inflict it on my outside and am a bit of a fluffy bunny when it comes to wanting to hurt others, so anyway, I don't get it.
One of these lovely young ladies has been having an affair with some semi-famous highly respected big wig in London. He flies her all over the continent to S&M hot-spots to do, well, to make her submit. She has been doing this for years. She woke up a few months ago (ironically same story with the second friend) and realized that she couldn't have love and S&M (I didn't ask, still don't get it) but had to chose between her chosen lifestyle and her desire to be loved.
She didn't decided soon enough. Yesterday she died during a session. No one's fault, just the risk factor.
Afterwards I go to see Goth in a bar. I down a few pints talk about evil people. I am feeling, very obvious to Goth, a bit edgy (sorry, dear).
My day continues with the love of my life. It is going quite well despite me feeling extremely disappointed in my work, my life, my love history and now in mourning.
See, I had given up not so long ago on love. I just thought I needed too much, or it wasn't in my cards, and I have no little goths to share that kind of love with. Then I met this L.O.M.L.
I still live with my ex. Shit, I know. Horrible for the LOML I know, shitty I know.....strangled by need of cash I am stuck.
Next week was to be a week the LOML and I were to spend together. All week. Every morning. Every day. I was so happy.
Long story short, one of his friends thinks I am shit. I don't really know why. I know what he says, but I really liked him at one point.
Anyway LOML started telling me what this guy had said, feeling totally hurt and like my skin had been taken off with sandpaper he started telling me I was manipulative and this friend of his said their relationship had deteriorated since me. I left. Completely hurt, totally confused and carrying death on my shoulders.
I went home to someone who doesn't love me.
During a text war of sorts I run out of credits. LOML calls to tell me to f%% off and he is deleting my number. Heartbreak.
I go to the corner of my bathroom and curl up in the corner and cry. I mean the can't stop kind. The kind where your face burns and your head aches and it just won't end.
A small spider climbs up on me and in my fury I bat him off and crush his little body on a black tile. Shocked by my own action and out and out speed I examine the situation and feel immediate guilt. The arms are sticking out from the crushed center frail and ghostly transparent. I wished I had eight arms to hold me.
I wished I hadn't killed him. He had been the only one touching me and I punished him.
I scooped up his sculpture of legs on an envelope and took him to my olive tree and buried him in the earth of the pot. I told the remains that there were things in this life you couldn't take back and now have to live with.
I returned to the bathroom wrapped myself in a white towel as I thought I might need it to absorb all my tears. I dreamed of the love of my life, and money and death and awoke the same way I had fallen asleep, in tears.
I got up and pushed at the earth in the pot hoping it might make the nest of tiny arms more comfortable.
*Offers a drink and a shoulder to cry on*