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The Creation of Instability.

There is much to learn about a person.
Though sometimes that person was defined by another.
Defined in a mold that seemed perfect for their other half,
As they had created it in their selfish ways.
I once was a timid person, with a trembling heart,
Always keeping my head on my shoulders with a mouth
A mouth filled with compassion.
Those who knew me understood this and appreciated it
Enjoying having a listening ear and arm to lean on.
Everything was going swell,
Having the typical rebellious stage
Overwhelmed with angst and depression
Skipping classes but maintaining morality.

Then a storm came along and swept me up.

No one knew exactly what happened behind the scenes
When the curvaceous, obsessive girl took me in
Wanting to have one of her own to love.
Everyone on the outside saw a couple
One who stood against the prejudice of society
Holding each other despite the pressures.
No one could have guessed what actually occurred.

The first night we were together.
It was hard to sleep next to one another
Bodies in the same, uncomfortable twin bed.
I expected only an arm wrapped around me
Keeping me warm and safe
Though what really happened was far from innocent.
She took my hand tightly and forced it down,
Into her pink, kitten printed pajama pants
Making me penetrate her.

I was scared, uneasy.

The nausea of being able to feel someone
From the inside was terrible,
As bile rose in my throat.

That night I slept petrified,
Her hot breath on my neck as her hands traveled
Up my shirt and groping what I had there,
My mind screaming for her to stop,
But I kept repeating to myself
"We're in love, we're in love"
Brainwashing myself to enjoy it.

As the relationship went on,
It became less awkward
Knowing what each other's bodies looked like
Every scar, indent and fold.
Roleplaying became a part of our life,
In the dark pretending we were other people
Kissing and hugging,
Pretending to be couples who don't exist.

Suddenly one day,
She introduced the concept of murder.
She told me of her hatred,
For those who sell themselves on the street
Becoming obsessed with her role-model
The infamous Jack the Ripper. �

I went along with it of course,
At first believing it to be just something to
"Talk about"
But to her it meant much more.
With her words I was dragged into it
Months of drilling it into me that
"You can kill those tainting society"
Until our future revolved around the idea. �

I was terrified.

I was lonely.

I didn't have anyone else.

So we planned to live together,
Her being skilled at Forensics
Myself in Psychology,
Training to become the newest,
"Jack the Ripper".

Everything started it's spiral from there
Down into the depths of instability.

She told me she wanted to be a boy.
I didn't want to believe it but I did,
Not wanting to seem judgmental.
I knew in my heart that it was a lie.
But I made myself believe it,
Looking up the operation Female to Male,
Sorting through the funds,
Figuring out the future at the tender age
Of my early seventeen years.

Soon she began telling me she wanted me to be a male.

That she could only be a man loving another man.

I hated this idea, I liked my body....

Or did I really?

My new name would be Julius Rembrandt,
Hers Alexander Lee Isaacs.
My mind struggled with the concept,
But of course I convinced myself
"I hate my gender, my body, my name."

My real name 'Angela' became obsolete,
A name I grew to despise,
Hating everything about it and my being.
She always called me Julius,
Or Vexen, the name of a fictional character.

I thought I was happy with just me and her.

Then the selfishness became apparent.

The nights we shared became more of a fear,
Not wanting to feel her rough, coarse fingers
As they rubbed the insides of my walls,
All five puncturing me repeatedly so I bled,
Hemorrhaged. �

The pain was unbearable,
So I conditioned myself to like it,
To accept what she did as natural,
And not painful
Feeling her hand close into a fist
Jabbing up and in as far as it could go,
Afterwards her arm soaked with my blood.

Every week I had a vaginal infection,
The stinging pain of walking and using the bathroom
Almost unbearable to the point of crying.

But I got used to it.

I was in love, wasn't I?

Not even the days of Mother Nature's Gift
Could save me from this punishment
This 'Pleasure',
As she led me into the bathroom,
Shoving her wet hand into my sore area,
Then forcing me to do the same to her
But I was careful,
Not wanting to hurt her like she did me.

At one point she used this so I would hate sex,
Not wanting to waste her energy on me
So I could pleasure her every single day.
When I became tired too soon it would happen again,
The thrusting, bleeding, stinging,
Myself limping to the bathroom at midnight
No one else awake to know.

Her mother began instilling fear in me,
Glaring whenever I was near her daughter,
Sleeping over
Opening the door at random to 'check on us'.
She blamed me for 'leeching off them'
Overstaying my welcome
Making her daughter hate her.

Over the course of a year and a half
I lost everything.
My identity
My judgement
My personality
My friends
My sanity.

All to be with one person,
Who stole everything away and loved it,
Knowing I was 'Hers' and no one elses,
Saying she'd kill me if I loved anyone other than her.

So for those who wondered
Why I would want to kill people,
Why I would hate myself,
Why I would fear love.

This is why.

She is what defined me.

�

Written by Chandler

(Gleana Snipoms)

Published 25th Mar 2012

All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.

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Atropabelladonna (Atro)

25th Mar 2012 9:32am

A person of a million words and verse I don't know what to say. Truly art for I felt every word as the repeated over in my head. Still they will not quite as I type. A must for the reading list. Kudos x10

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