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Recall what I know.
Poor sleep impairs judgment. Maybe that's it. The last time I allowed myself any rest was probably some eternity ago. I don't remember.
...I don't think I remember much, actually.
It could've been yesterday. It could be now.
(Clinging to explanations again?)
...
There! Right there! There he goes again, meddling. I just want to be useful but HE just keeps meddling. I just need them (you! you!) to understand (listen to me!) but he just keeps meddling. He just keeps meddling. He just k—
—no one can hear me.
No one can hear me but I know everything they're (you're!) saying. Those eyes tell me more words than vestigial (useless!) mouths. Those hands tell me every story—all I need is for them to hand down their sentence.
Yes. I need evidence. Be loud, be clear. Tell me what I know—I need to hear it. I cannot take this room for doubt anymore.
(Your embrace is suffocating; is it just a memory?)
I know my eyes are clouded with desire, so pierce through and clear the fog or blind me forever. Here. I'll guide you once again.
One, two, three—1, 2, 3—you, you, and me—a bitter waltz. No pardons as I step on your feet—I feel your grasp tightening, it has something to say, so say it to me now. Now! Do you want to continue forth with me, or do you want to watch dust scatter in the wind? I know what your answer is—don't lie to me.
(If you loved me you wouldn't. Please love me.)
Right you are, that we're only going in circles. Purgatory is your endless embrace. Your indecision makes me sick. Don't I make you sicker? Am I not a parasite?
My hosts, my marionettes—tell me now, say it, say you hate me and throw me up—say you love me and give your everything to me—I've been starved of the truth, so feed me like a battered beast. Even if it's poison—oh how I LOVE poison! I'll take your everything.
Give me your hands—I'll move them again for you if you can't decide.
—(Pierce—through—and—embrace—me.)—
———!!!
...
Hm...
I don't think that's supposed to be there...?
Where am I... What did he do this time...?
Something cold brushes against my arm—itself warm but strangely numb. I'm holding something, I'm sure.
And there you are, I think. What's with the yelling? I'm too tired for this... Why must you only be so honest at a time like this?
(I think that's my name? Did I do something wrong again?)
At the end of the numb arm—actually it does itch a little—there is a hand. So you've kindly reminded me. But why? Can't you just leave me alone? I'm tired! And isn't this what you wanted?
(I think I can see you shaking your head. And still, with the yelling—! So annoying.)
...Did I say that out loud?
So I didn't do it right. Just like everything else. I see now. You don't trust me with myself. Ha. Haha. About time you noticed. Oh how good it feels to be noticed.
(You're welcome. You sound like your old selves again.)
Mm.
It does seem like my dough is as much of a contrarian as I...
...I just need some sleep.
(You can't stop me. I've gotten too comfortable. Try not holding me next time.)
I'll be fine.
I promise.
...
.....
.......
"LIAR!"