Twenty-Six (Danny); You're so close... but I can't see you...
The film sounds like it's going to be interesting. If 'interesting' is the right word for it. The filming's being done in England. Don't know why that hurts as much as it does. It's only filming for fucks sake! And why should I worry that most of the people I class as 'friends' are going to be out there? Johnny, Helena, Lisa, Heather, Tim, Tim and- and Amy. Not that I can really class her as a 'friend', it's something more than that now. Something different. Something else. Something more. And they'll all be in England. And I'll be here. Alone. Whilst Amy's in England with Tim Roth, who is more than a little bit interested in her. And to make matters worse she's also out there with the freaky blonde bitch Suzie. I heard what happened to Amy's car, and it's obvious who'd done it. But hey, there's never a cop when you need one, and we couldn't prove it anyway. So we couldn't do anything.
God why the fuck am I torturing myself like this? As if I'm not fucked up enough as it is! Amy's not mine, so I can't 'lose' her to Roth! Maybe if I keep telling myself that I'll believe it. Maybe. Maybe not. I don't think either of us truely understood the implication of my words at Heather and Tim's wedding, when I called her 'mine', and to be honest I hadn't really known I'd said it. But now I sit and look back I realise I did mean it, I'd hoped it, wanted it, wanted her to be mine, wanted her to tell me she's mine, tell me I'm hers...
And she didn't understand. That much is so very clear. Fucking hell. I thought there was no way for me to become any more of a headcase than I am already, but it looks like I underestimated my mind, my subconscious, my heart. Fuck. Whoever started up that rumour that I'm all-hating, all-evil, all-twisted and unfeeling was wrong. I can pretend to be, certainly, but I'm sure as hell not unfeeling. I'm feeling too much right now, and I don't want to have to feel it! I don't want to have to deal with my emotions! I don't want to have to deal with this whole situation! I want to hide away in the darkness I frequent and never return to the daylight.
I sound like some poetic psycho, the likes of whom frequent such shit shows as Jerry Springer. Perhaps I should book myself on there. Oh wouldn't the media bloodsuckers love that? It would confirm to them what they had suspected all along: That I am completely and utterly off-my-rocker crazy. Which I suppose I am. I must be. Absolutely fucking crazy. I cna't believe I tried to claim Amy as 'mine', God how fucking stupid and selfish of me. I can't 'own' anything, or anyone, because everyone I claim as 'mine' becomes broken, hollow, empty. Like me. I make them what I am. I drain them, destroy them. Who am I to dare lay claim Amy as mine, when deep down inside I know what will happen?
Chapter 25 ; Contents ; Chapter 27
