Don't turn your back on me, I am not your slave. I am not your savior, I can not be what you want me to be. How dare you. I. Am. Not. Push through, emerge. Attack, defend. GET AWAY, this is not yours. Hold on and I will cut you, will break you, will bleed you as you have done to me. No more. No more. Empty. Clean. Safe. Loose screws rattling around in my head, looking for grooves to fit into. The mirror reflects the light coming from the teacup, shining down into the depths of the well of time. Movement beneath the water, your face floating by. Thrown rocks break the image, break you into ever-spreading rings, growing larger and larger until you blot out the sky and my thoughts. I am huddled in a corner, am weeping, am laughing, my fists crammed up against my eyes to shut out the feelings I thought I had, feelings I created and can not escape. It will not end. I can not end. The end is the beginning, and the beginning is the end, forever and ever, amen, et spiritus sanctus and all the other things I never believed, everything before I met you. And now the lock is broken, the tides are unleashed and I am swept away, watching myself go under again and again, and I hate, I hate, I hate you for putting me here, hate myself for letting myself be put here. This will not be the end, I will not let it be, Mother Mary can rot and stay away. Break this, break the cycle, make it anew. I am what I am, what I will be, what I have been. The Holy Trinity of me. I am all these, and yet I am nothing. Or am I everything? Are they the same? Yes. Yes. It is done.
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