Reside Within Me

Chapter Three

I feel someone reading it. The writing on my skin. The words I leave to you. I feel them highlighting them and framing them.

Those beautiful yet haunting eyes. But even as I do, I keep thinking. Thinking about everything. My sins. My fears. How I let them conquer me.

I lost my family. A long time ago. I saw them die. And I realized I didn't want that for me. I didn't want to die. I was too scared. But I'm not scared anymore.

I've told myself that so many times. Over and over. Again and again. But I've always responded with killing.

I'm not scared. I've been loving and living and losing. Shouldn't I be more afraid of losing what I love than dying? I'm not.

I'm the set of irrational numbers in between real numbers with rationality. They all end but I keep going in an infinite loop of illegible patterns. Repeating and repeating. Love, fear, lose, repeat.

Perhaps I should've aged. Perhaps I should've grown old with Pi. Maybe if Pi lived, I wouldn't have killed her. I would've end up dying happily with her. But I ended up in an endless loop. All I can do is continue living. But that isn't the problem. My reaction to it is the problem.

Maybe it's the fact that Pi couldn't live that I'm so afraid do die. Now I have to live for her. Maybe it's the fact that Pi died that I knew I couldn't. If I could do something about it, I did.

How much have I aged? Do you know? I don't. Maybe I do but I just don't remember. All I know is that I'm laying in bed, next to one of my countless soulmates. Which, by the way, isn't the one. There's still writing on my skin that's being read by someone.

Stop reading the writing on my skin. It's only scratch work of the maniac at best.