Nemesis

And it begins all over again. I can feel him waltzing into my life, fracturing every single moment of it.

Even though I know that the pure, raw repulsion that I will feel in a moment now is something I have not thought through, it happens all over again anyway.

He is what I am not. To my Turquoise, he is a Vermilion blazing brighter than a billion Suns. Try as hard as I may to shut him out, he is the voice in my head whispering tales of destruction and inevitability and ruin. Quite the gardener he is too, planting ever so impeccably a thousand seeds of self-doubt and in the same breath trimming off whatever confidence that might’ve managed to grow past the concrete.

With the truth masked and gagged, all I’ve left of my earlier self is a twisted, corrupted, insecure, manic-depressive soul. Oh and how perfectly antagonistic is he, for he has taken me down the stairwell to hell, filled my veins with his noxious sludge and left me there defenseless.

But no, he doesn't stop. Now that he has successfully turned everything that was once me to a gelatinous smorgasbord, he proceeds to burn it till it is charred. The smell of burnt film reels, which were all I had left of you, claws its way through my numb nose.

As the one called the Wild Boar finishes goring me, I realise he too is similar to me. We both are sums of excesses.

“Oh, sweetheart. You thought I was going to let him have all the fun?” whispers the one called Firefly in a metallic voice. His suave, sexy and sharp face comes into view as my disoriented soul regains consciousness.

Apparently it was beginning all over again, once again.

The glint off of his katana is matched only by his perfect teeth peering through his Cheshire grin. And the Ubermensch goes to work with unmatched specificity, meticulousness and undeniable ruthlessness. He cuts through my beautiful Forest with the utmost ease, leaving me with neither a soul nor a place to call home. “Stop this madness!” , I try to scream in vain, and as if predicted, he stops to say “Oh, but this is not madness. More like controlled chaos. A necessary evil I would say and an illuminating one at that.”

“Not for you though.” he adds with a chuckle, adjusting his bloody bow tie.

This is how the Firefly and the Wild Boar cut me, and what I had, down and burnt it beyond recognition. Even though they didn’t do this in reality, did it really cause any less turmoil? Did knowing that they exist only in my brain help at all?

I ask myself this question every single time.

And it begins all over again.