Identity Crisis
By Gita Toronjil-Lee

 

I can't help but to wonder sometimes.

 

I wonder who I am...

…and my name pops into my head

along with my mission, my desires.

But sometimes I think…

just for a second…

that I'm not who I think I am.

It's… disorienting, if anything.

To look at the stone walls around me,

to gaze up into the infinite black nothingness above,

to hear the screams of the damned around me as I sleep,

to feel this world around me --

my world --

and to feel so, so wrong.

 

And sometimes I wonder.

I look into her orange eyes, and I see want.

But I also see fear

and I see desperation

and I think it's because of me.

I look into his silver eyes, and I see hate.

Pure and simple.

I see his pain, quickly masked,

and I can't help but think that

that's my fault, too.

I look into her blue eyes, and I see…

I see… something that I cannot name,

as though I have forgotten it,

but it's probably my imagination.

I know I shouldn't be looking.

 

Sometimes I wonder about

those foolish girls,

who pretend to look upon me and know me…

they think they admire me.

They don't know me, because

if they did, they'd hate me.

They'd absolutely loathe me.

I am a warrior, after all, of the Darkness.

The pride of evil.

My leader tells me so.

But somehow, I like being admired,

and I can't bring myself to end it

I can't bring myself to kill them like I know I should

or even to let their deaths occur.

I will one day, I know. I know.

I just haven't yet.

But I can.

 

Did I mention that I sometimes wonder?

I know I live in darkness…

I know I love the darkness…

I know I'm a prince of darkness.

I know, but still,

sometimes I wonder,

though the feeling quickly disappears,

I wonder if I truly like black.

Sometimes I think red's much nicer.

 


Brainwashing can't be foolproof all the time…

Endymion's not mine. Don't think I'd want him, one way or another, but sometimes even the strangest, most disturbing flashes of inspiration can't be ignored.

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