a couple of scribbles that I (well-) scribbled in June of last year. I can't recall what spurred this exactly, but I have an inkling. Sort of.

bedtime story part one
June 2, 2006

Once upon a time, there lived a woman who wanted so much, who needed too much.

One day, she found a man who gave her everything she thought she needed. He lavished her with affection, catered to her often irrational whims, and protected her from her own unstable, fervent, self-destructive lunacy.

They lived happily.

For some time.

Until the woman realized that she lived in a bubble of his dreams.

Whatever the man offers, it will never be enough. She will always want more than he can give. She will always need more than he can provide.

Whatever monstrosity she's looking for, he will never be able to slay with whatever strength he can muster.

It will always elude him, this antidote to the emptiness that gnaws at her soul.

For whatever it is, he will never find the means to understand it.


And so, finally, one demented day, she pricked the bubble.

And soared free.


Until she fell and died a bloody, tragic death.


bedtime story part deux
June 3, 2006

Once upon a time, there was a woman who wanted so much, who needed too much.

One day, she found a man who gave her everything.

But she kept wanting.

For what, she couldn't quite say. She searched the depths of her soul for answers, but to no avail.

Disturbed by her restlessness, he finally asked her, "Don't I make you happy?"

"Oh, but you do," she answered. And she was surprised to realize that she meant it.

He left it at that, knowing that she needed to resolve this on her own. He patiently stayed in the shadows, quietly willing his strength to shield her from whatever it was that plagued her.

Then, one morning, the woman woke up and saw the truth painted in the sky. It was as if an infinite array of colors, all shades and hues, conspired to show her the light.

"That's the thing," she told the man. "I didn't like being happy. I wanted pain and misery. I craved for conflict and tragedy."

"Didn't? Wanted? Craved?" asked the man, suppressing an ironic smile, for he instinctively knew what she was about to say.

"Yes," she answered.

And she said no more, sensing that nothing else needs to be said.

For she somehow knew that the man has always understood.

And even now, he understands it better than she ever could.


So, is that it? Will they live happily every after?
Oh, but this was never meant to be a fairy tale.