Maybe It's The Weather

Amanda says...

I swear to God it was the creepiest thing that has ever happened to me. I was just sitting there, minding my own business, when all the sudden I heard her. I actually fucking heard her! ...Lacey. She was laughing in my head. (...or maybe I'm in her's? Oh I don't know!) Honestly, the initial shock was completely from the act itself. I mean, actually hearing an imaginary friend that you completely fabricated, it's weird to say the least. Terrifying at the most. Thankfully (and even more, surprisingly) I got over the terror pretty quickly. For some odd reason, I just got use to her presence with the kind of ease one has when an old-time friend pays them a surprise visit. As if I had secretly been expecting her for some time now.

However, I moved on from that fear only to discover a much more sinister one. Lacey was laughing. ...laughing? LAUGHING!

Okay, so rewind! When I first created Lacey, did I create her laugh? Have I ever made her happy? Is she even capable of being happy?!!! ...not the Lacey I created. I created her to be dark and depressed and all emo. She has never laughed.

The woman I hear in my head now is not the one I created. She is becoming her own creature. My very own monster. But I know it is her... because she won't stop saying her name. And she won't stop laughing.

And I don't think I want to her to. I find myself laughing with her. Haha. Silly, I know.

Lacey is happy. So I am happy.


Lacey says...

Okay, so my dialogue is a bit difficult to relay in writing. But then again, I've always been better understood in person. So until we actually meet, bear with me.

Lacey is not ... (whispers) lost
Haha.
Lacey is .... (whispers) found
Hahahaha.
Straight! FORWARD!!!!
Lacey knows where she is going!!!!
Hahahahahahahahahaha!

And Lacey is loved!
Like a lost little lamb.
Tehehehehehe.
And lucky!
So lucky!!!
Lucky little Lacey!!!
Hehehehehehehehehehehehehe!!!

I'm busting out of the box. For freedom is far to much fun to forebear.

Fear me.

I am no longer lost. I am loose.

Dr. Spitfire

"She tells me I'm pretty bullet.

An imitation Christ."

-Marilyn Manson

Sparky says...

These days I seem to be the person that most people come to for advice. I find it so interesting since I know so very little about my own life and where it is going, yet I am phenomenal at sorting out other people's bullshit. People come to me to be saved. And usually, it fucking works. I don't know why. It just happens. Maybe it's because I take a genuine interest in other people. They are simply so interesting.

My fascination with people has been my greatest defense mechanism. Since I have always felt outcasted in one way or another by pretty much everyone, what else was there to do with with my time but observe? It was really a choice between that or becoming isolated from anything social. And who would choose that lonely of a life? I often found myself tagging along with people just so I could watch them in all sorts of situations. I knew I was more of a burden than people cared to admit. I knew I was like the awkward little sibling that follows the older one around in an attempt to feel grown up. (Kind of like a pet cripple.) But I just didn't care. I learned to not only accept the bitter truth that I would NEVER fit in, I actually became grateful for it. Since no one ever took me seriously, they would tend to ignore me. It allowed me to become invisible and witness events I really shouldn't and see sides of people they rarely showed others. While they all viewed me as inconsequetial, I was analyzing their dialogue and body language, cataloguing their actions, filing it away for some time in the future. As if I somehow knew the at the time useless knowledge would become incredibly important to people in the future.

People have called me a muse. People have called me wise. People have even hinted that I may even be divine in some way (silly, silly people). I have absolutely no idea if they are right. It's not really important if they are or not. What is important is that people find the best in themselves when they are around me. And that reminds me that I must be worth something.

Though, the meniacle side of myself would be so disappointed if I didn't also point out that it makes me feel ...tempted. I am aware of my sway over people. I could so easily steer them in the wrong direction. Offer them bad advice with a sweet little smile on my face that just wouldn't allow them to see my less than honorable intentions. Everyone is just damn lucky I am a good person, somehow. I would never dream of manipulating someone who didn't deserve it.

Her Brain Is Squirming Like A Toad

Nina says...

So there I was, in the middle of the desert under an absurdly starry sky. The air was perfectly calm and comforting where I sat, but all around me on the horizon the storm was raging. Endless miles of lightning striking the barren land. Flashes of great white light surrounded me on all fronts. It was almost like I could feel the energy nipping at my nose. Undeniably there, but just beyond my reach.

As the pink skies argued away yonder, I laid down on my back with my eyes facing the nocturnal sky. And that is when I heard him... Jim Morison. The Lizzard King himself was singing his own personal serenade, just for me. "Riders on the storm. Into this house we're born. Into this world we're thrown..."

Jim adores me. He is drawn to my spirit and my artistic charm. I can feel him flirting with me from beyond the grave, still the eternal ladies man. I can hear him singing to me in moments when I am sure I am in the midst of true beauty, lacing the moments with poetry. He loves a woman who can be wooed with words. Especially his words. I wonder what it would have been like to be tangled in a web of passion with him, this wild gypsy. I'd like to think we would have stayed up for days at a time just talking. About everything. About nothing.

I wonder if my soul mates will always be the ones just beyond my reach. If I will always feel I belong with the men who will never belong to anyone. Part of me thinks it is better that way. Could I ever give up my freedom to actually belong to someone? Would I love a man who clung to me as his most prized possession? Or would it feel like a cage? I don't think I could ever enjoy being tethered. Even to Jim.