Poetry by eyes of repulsion

Part Four

Writing is difficult. If one could always be the same person, feel the same, have the same thoughts, values and so on without questioning them too much it wouldn't be. It would be very easy - one could just open up, stay clear and then let it flow. But the sickness of having an intense mind makes you lose control, start wondering if that really should be so, if this perhaps should... oh, you got the point. Writing a novel is a real adventure when it comes to these things, mainly keeping the balance and sticking to the script. Should he really do that? Do I want him to act in that way even if I don't like it myself? Why write things I don't want anyone to associate with me, the author, as I dislike them so much, along with other values I actually stand for? Millions of questions disturb me, many of them tempting me to rewrite and change everything. Or stop writing. They also make me write bullshit like this - sorry people ;)

Story-wise there isn't much to say - I feel we're getting somewhere now. Please read the old chapters before continuing, and please share your thoughts with me if you want to.

Like always: Rick is Rick and I'm only his master. What he thinks, does and dumps in the toilet is his business and not mine, whether or not they may resemble each other. Like him, think he is a fucking loser, care for him, love him more than anything - whatever you do please try to understand him or you will soon hate him without reason, I'd say. Love always controls hate, yep.

Part One (Chapters 1 - 6)
Part Two (Chapters 7 - 10)
Part Three (Chapters 11 - 12)

13.

Once again my plans got interfered with, but in a positive manner for a change. During our trip through the heavens I promised her that I'd stop at her place to spend the day, probably to say goodbye in a proper way or however this woman thinks. That's what I thought at least. She knew that I had to work - rather that I said I had to work - the next day and for some week after, so she couldn't expect more than a little visit. Apart from that unexpected question from her asking me about not leaving her directly, nothing extraordinary happened - all three of us spoke close to the entire journey, played some games and had a pretty nice time.

Back at her place it was another story. She behaved quite nervously and in spite of her obvious attention not to show it, it was pretty clear, which of course made me wonder what was up. She acted like me. Naturally that would be good in a way but, as the pessimist I'd become when it came to Michelle, it didn't feel anything but uncomfortable - I couldn't read her like I usually could. When Candy had gone to bed and we were lying in her sofa like before, with her head against mine and behaving like lovers, some of the old questions I had were about to be answered.

"We need to talk about feelings..." she said to interrupt one of those typical silences.

It felt very unlike her to just state such a thing and thus I was totally unprepared on what to say.

"Yeah... we do..." left my mouth.

Another silence entered the room, again to be kicked out by the woman.

"You're in love with me, aren't you...?"

My stomach didn't like what she just said, as well as my brain, and hence I sat there like a stupid statue for a while, wondering what the hell to reply.

"I am..." got to be my contribution.

"For how long...?"

I understood that the girl curiously looking right into my eyes wasn't about to give up. A welcomed feeling that it was smart to be honest sat down inside me to help me. I thought for a long time.

"Hard to say... You're so... incomparable to others you know... and in a way you've always been... so I guess to answer 'all my life' would be the most truthful I can say, I'm afraid... yet I know it sounds really lame..."

She didn't change face at all, like she expected me to say that. It felt best to continue.

"I think I know you quite well again, and that means ---"

"Rick..." she put in, "let me speak instead..." I nodded slowly with an "okey", feeling like the younger of the two siblings for the first time in years. "I've understood that and it's been occupying my mind for a long time now, and ---"

She became quiet for some seconds.

"I... well, I honestly don't know what I think of anything..."

I decided to shut up and instead hope that she'd go on.

"I..." she whispered, both confused and thought-through at the same time, "I know that I... love you, but I don't know how. I feel like a child. I don't think I love you in some... well, like love usually feels like... I guess... perhaps not in the way you want me to, I don't know..."

She moved her head a little and changed position in the sofa, moving closer to me. Three seconds later I reluctantly found my fingers fooling around in her beautiful hair, only as I knew she wanted them to. I kept on playing mute while she explored her inner self together with me.

"Everything feels very difficult I think..."

The room turned quiet again.

A small "yeah..." from me didn't feel like a waste of words, so I tried one. It was so expected none of us really heard it.

"You know what..." she continued, "when I try to put a finger on my feelings for you, it's like you're... I don't know... you're not even worthy of being mentioned in the same discussion as Charlie or anyone else..."

Before my mind got twisted of all questions about what she meant by that - if it was good or bad - she started caressing my hand in some awkward way that made it impossible for me to say something.

"I could never imagine a life without you. Sure, you've been left out of it before, but in my mind you've always been there, you know... You were my invisible friend when I had problems... kind of like a comforting and caring diary I didn't write in. It's hard to explain... and I'm really bad at this..."

That she'd thought about this before was very evident, I thought. I chose to use my verbal skill a little.

"I know what you mean - it was the same with me. I mean, you've always been my invisible friend too, that far away kindred spirit I always share life with whatever happens even if I had to do it the lonely way. Like old times you know..."

My choice of words sucked so badly that my current self-esteem got punched right on my lips - they would now be kept shut again. What the hell was that - who could understand that shit? I felt like an eleven-year-old.

"Yeah..." Michelle said, very calm.

Nothing was said for over fifteen minutes. We were both very absent, thinking and trying to find answers on the same kind of questions. Something had indubitably evolved. We still touched each other and felt the other's presence all the time even though our minds were on different planets. It felt really good, yet also very confusing. Close, anyway. My bomb had been as dangerous as some mosquito repellent - if it was worthy to be classified as dangerous that is. There was still a lot left to be explained though, something I surely didn't look forward to but it felt downright necessary. Because what had happened, really? She'd realized and confessed something I did long ago - that I was very important and dear to her. So what? I was terribly in love with her, unable to live without the hope that my feelings were mutual, or one day would be. It was my goal in life, the only thing I really wanted. A Rick without Michelle didn't exist - and he never had. How the hell should I explain that in an understandable way?

Before I got the chance to, the woman let her voice try a comeback.

"Rick... I never want to lose you again, I know that... yet I feel that it maybe would be the best thing to do. The question is what you want, how you feel about everything. I really love you, still... a relationship feels impossible for me... even in the future, just to imagine kissing you makes me shiver. Not because of you, but because of my best friend in you, my brother... you know. I... well, I don't know... I'm sorry Rick..."

Quiet again. Was that the goodbye I feared? Everything was a big mess, a damn collection of mindfuckers. I thought for a long while before saying anything.

"I never said that I'm in love with you like that... you're superior and all that but I don't have some desperate urge to own you or anything..."

She smiled in some defensive way, like I tried to attack her with what I just said, fight back or something. I knew that my will to explain everything from my point of view now had to be left out - she would never react positive to what I wanted to tell her, not at all.

"So what do you want...?" she asked.

"I dunno", I predictably stated, "to live like last week, perhaps..."

My last sentence puzzled her, it was as if the thought that it always could be like that never had crossed her mind. I was getting frustrated. Not only because of that but mainly due to that old "I can't fall in love with my brother" bullshit that had kept me quite annoyed. Was it such a fucking impossibility to change the stupid label of "brother" of me in her head to "lover" or whatever one should call it? At least just fucking take it away? I wasn't her brother damnit! She sadly enough felt like a slower little sister again, one I wanted to lend out my brain to so she could catch up a little faster. Things were fucked.

"I've never been this absent-minded", the girl smiled out after yet another dead moment.

She slowly raised and tried to wake up her body a little.

I was still in that other world of thinking, something very obvious which made her smile and stroke my hair to help me come back.

"Will you spend the night?" she asked, definitely knowing what the answer would be.

Ten minutes later we were lying in the same old bed again, she painfully close to keep the traditions alive. She kissed my lips goodnight and another fucked up day had come to an end. And yes, her hair was under my nose, and yes, it smelt fucking agony.

13.

I was destined to spend a lot of time with myself the upcoming weeks. Less than one an hour after I left Michelle I was about to freak out, but somewhere inside the wuss I were there was a man who told me to pull myself together and do what's right - to help her be alone to think too. I hated that man, still I respected him more than anyone.

Fifteen days passed before we made contact again. For me they consisted of three things; work, thinking and sleep. I had no reason to work really, I didn't need more money than I already had because of my old inventions and shit, but I guess it was a good idea to try the social life again. Flying planes wasn't the most social work though, all you did was to sit there in the cockpit, do what you should and then you were done, kind of why I once chose to get a certificate. It gave me more time to think, basically. And more money I had no use for.

The journey in my head was divided into two parts, where part one made up the time when I could be considered a living being, someone worthy of being called Rick. Meeting all the workmates was probably the most enjoyable thing during that period. It felt encouraging to come back to the world where I was loved, and where I in a less complex way could show them that it was mutual. Of course, I knew that my love for them always had been based on their liking of me, something that felt different compared to before. Now they were quite trivial, yet very likeable. In a way they had become small and weak because of Michelle, and that made me even more secure around them. Many of them considerately asked me about my wellbeing - I presume it was very easy to see that I had changed the last couple of months and that I had more to think about than the last time they met me.

Whatever decent life that might sound like, it was my obsession that ruled it. She was inside me every second, controlled me as if I had no will of my own. And she was like a drug I had to use on a frequent basis not to break. I spent an embarrassing amount of time looking at pictures of her, listening to those old songs again and shitty crap like that, but the awkward winner must be that I'd bought a bottle of her perfume to have with me. I'd also stolen a sweater from her for the same purpose. I knew very well what a damn loser I was turning into, but I didn't fucking care at all. What the hell could I do to avoid doing all these crazy things without just fooling myself? I was so in love with her nothing else existed, not even the responsibility to take care of myself nor the underlying will to do so. I was honest to myself and nothing's wrong with that. Fortunately I still had some control over myself though, probably because of the small amount of hope I carried with me, always comforting me and telling me that things would be better one day. Could be, at least. I behaved more like some stupid child each day, but I felt there was nothing I could do about it.

That was only during the nice part - the happy moments when that inner voice told me not to give up. Inside I still also had a more pessimistic bastard who mostly took over me during the last period away from Michelle, a damn fucking master of making everything feel like a burning purgatory. When that guy directed my thoughts it all turned destructive or very self-centered. I wanted to give up, die. If not such an ultimate solution, then to show my middle finger to my morals and do what was needed. I certainly knew the way out if I didn't care about how dark it would be. An accident would be great, especially if it concerned both Michelle and me. I think that would be the mind-changer she needed. If I had one myself it would make her value me more and feel superior to the helpless wretch I'd be - what could be negative about that? But to feel close to death together with someone must be a yet more powerful kind of awakening of feelings. It would make us connected in something this big too, attached to each other for life in some sort, hopefully making an entire life with me feel possible. Because one thing was certain - she was in desperate need of something that could make her look beyond that tattoo of "brother" she'd put on my forehead and see me as Rick and nothing else. If she'd just forgot all those past views of me for a while I still think she'd realize her true love to me. Perhaps I was wrong, perhaps I fooled myself to think like that only to be able to feel that my hope hadn't left me - it was hard to tell. Just like before, and I was getting just as damn exasperated that it had to be like that.

So I decided to fuck it. I'd always been a good soldier and it had never meant that I'd been a harder target for the evil bullets of life to hit, something I was very tired of. It had helped me survive but never assisted me in winning anything I really wanted. I'd never been a man, in spite of all my success in life I had never taken any real chances. To try telling her how things actually were, that I was this obsessed by her and just to let my feelings out in the best and most flattering choice of words I could, might have worked but it was too full of risks and therefore seemed stupid. It had nothing to do with if I was scared or not, because currently I was too damn apathetic to be afraid. I just knew it wouldn't work but instead frighten her. Throughout this self-destructive period better ideas fortunately had struck my mind. Some were purely diabolical while some were morally feasible, and some were too good to ignore. One of those had accidentally developed into a whole scenario I now couldn't discard - the chance that it would go wrong felt as small as my balls. I would try out the life as an evil bastard for once. My motives were good and I wouldn't make her too unhappy. I could live with it, I thought.

The plot was so damn simple and effective I wondered who I'd been the last twenty-six years of my life - I could've been a hundred times richer if I'd used all the easier methods to get what I wanted. I hired a man - bought a kind of a hooker you might say - I'd worked with in the past to act out the evil side of myself. His name was Terrence, he was my age, good-looking, smart and a tremendous actor, and he listened to me like a dog to his master. Also I must say I really liked him as a person and felt that he had the brain to understand me. Perfect, in other words. He was paid a big amount of money to help me in my quest, to be my mercenary without a conscience. I felt hope.

15.

Even though I now had changed my tactics, the old sissy was still a part of me. That led to the fact that everything got way more complex than it really had to. My first plan was just to try the whole idea a little, make her unhappy and hence value me more after I'd become her savior. I thought a good start would be to simply send Terrence into her life and make it worse, in an appropriate manner. First the idea of getting her evicted so she and Candy could stay at my place felt tempting, but it was so damn drastic. I had more control over this strategy and if something went wrong it could be fixed in a sec.

I was surprised how easy it was to move my pawn into her territory. Terry had been standing in the local store with a copy of "Trois Coleur Rouge", Michelle's favorite film, in his hand while reading its backside which of course made her take contact, curios and social as she is and always had been. My slave of course knew exactly what to say, how to behave and what jokes to use to make her take fancy in him. When the necessary bonds were tied he asked her if she'd seen Bleu by the same director, she said no but that she'd always wanted to see it but never found it, he said he owned it and a cozy moment later they had decided to watch it together. It was as easy as pouring milk.

Actually I hadn't decided the next step he'd take yet - I wanted to see the reactions before continuing. Like I thought she'd welcome him like he was some old and trustworthy friend just because he was a fan of Kieslowski's movies, something that has to mean he's a good man, she must've reasoned. One side of me wanted to punish her for that fucking naive and stupid opinion while the other, the one in command, loved her too much, made me silly and lose my nerve. Damn him! However, my motive was too change her, not to torment her, and there were better choices waiting to be picked for doing so. I just wanted to find the best one - the most lucrative evil deed for this moment. To tell her that men sucked and that I was far above them by having Terry to betray her felt meaningless - she knew that. As a matter of fact the smartest thing to do felt like giving her a psychiatrist - controlled by me, of course - that could open up all those doors she'd locked inside her, repaint that label of brother and all that shit. Terry would probably master that just as well.

I was right. One single thing was his objective - to be a considerate listener without taking any initiative himself. He handled that masterful, as far as I know. After they'd watched "Trois Coleur Bleu" together, a very depressive and thought-provoking movie, they had a long chat, kind of like Michelle and mine's apart from the obvious differences when having known each other for so long like we had in comparison to their newborn relationship. When the evident discussion about the movie and some less predictable talk about monarchy, how the hell that got into the subject, was emptied for the moment, Terrence got her to open up regarding Charlie. Used to all the media asking her about him and her feelings about the tragedy and so on, Michelle was very... professional - boring, I'd say - in the way she behaved in this situation, so she only told him quite shallow crap. But it got better. Due to Terrence's knowledge about how to adapt to the woman's preferences and needs in this type of conversation, he could present some interesting information to me when their little date had come to its end. Based on his own view, he said that anyone would think that she were in love with me, judging how she described and spoke about me. He hadn't confronted her about that yet, I'd done that myself a while ago and surely remember how I regret that I did. She had to realize that herself, question it without feeling pressure from someone else, something that had been clear a long time now.

In this situation it wasn't as difficult though, actually pretty easy - to start up anyway. Terry arranged another rendezvous in a smart and natural way, this time with a lot of directing from me to have in mind. I thought that a video camera was necessary to plant somewhere to film the main events - I wanted to see and judge everything based on own reflections and not through Terry's. Also, we had a script to go by, a thought-through and safe one almost certain to be effective. I wasn't used to this, didn't really like the idea, yet I loved what I was doing. I would help her, guide her right, and save myself.

To be continued...

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