Untitled Document

A Great Fall

A Great Fall

A Great Fall

[Originally posted by me writing as Manson for a celebrity roleplay group on LiveJournal, an account that's since been closed. Long live the King.]


i really don't know what i'm doing here 
i really think i should've gone to bed tonight but... 
just one drink 
and there're some people to meet you 
i think that you'll like them 
i have to say we do 
and i promise in less than an hour we will honestly go 
now why don't i just get you another 
while you just say hello... 
yeah just say hello... 

so i'm clutching it tight 
another glass in my hand 
and my mouth and the smiles 
moving up as i stand up 
too close and too wide 
and the smiles are too bright 
and i breathe in too deep 
and my head's getting light 
but the air is getting heavier and it's closer 
and i'm starting to sway 
and the hands on all my shoulders don't have names 
and they won't go away 
so here i go 
here i go again... 

falling into strangers 
and it's only just eleven 
and i'm staring like a child 
until someone slips me heaven 
and i take it on my knees 
just like a thousand times before 
and i get transfixed 
that fixed 
and i'm just looking at the floor 
just looking at the floor 
yeah i look at the floor 

and i'm starting to laugh 
like an animal in pain 
and i've got blood on my hands 
and i've got hands in my brain 
and the first short retch 
leaves me gasping for more 
and i stagger over screaming 
on my way to the floor 
and i'm back on my back 
with the lights and the lies in my eyes 
and the colour and the music's too loud 
and my head's all the wrong size 
so here i go 
here i go again... 

yeah i laugh and i jump 
and i sing and i laugh 
and i dance and i laugh 
and i laugh and i laugh 
and i can't seem to think 
where this is 
who i am 
why i'm keeping this going 
keep pouring it out 
keep pouring it down 
and the way the rain comes down hard 
that's the way i feel inside... 

i can't take it anymore 
this it i've become 
this is it like i get 
when my life's going numb 
i just keep moving my mouth 
i just keep moving my feet 
i say i'm loving you to death 
like i'm losing my breath 
and all the smiles that i wear 
and all the games that i play 
and all the drinks that i mix 
and i drink until i'm sick 
and all the faces that i make 
and all the shapes that i throw 
and all the people i meet 
and all the words that i know 
makes me sick to the heart 
oh i feel so tired... 

and the way the rain comes down hard 
that's how i feel inside...

-The Cure "Open"

I don't know why I went. I don't remember who was there. I couldn't tell you what I talked about or with whom. But I needed to get out, to get away from the noise in my head if only for a few hours. I'd been very good as of late, practicing my smile until it was almost perfect, until it'd rise naturally to my face when the situation called for it. I was pretty good at laughing too, though it sometimes sounded a little forced. It was Day 5 of 14 and I was recovering nicely from the wounds received in New Orleans. Not so nicely from the wounds I received prior to Mardi Gras, but the internal ones don't count, right? Anyway. I heard about this little shindig and I thought maybe I should go. You know, get out for awhile, blow off some steam. It wasn't doing me much good to sit in his room so much. I caught myself talking to him as if he were there several times too many. This was before I combed through his furniture looking to see if he left anything behind. I found a miniscule blue baggie with some powder in it and thought that maybe I should keep an eye on it until he got home. You know. Looking out for his best interests. Wouldn't want it to get lost or anything.

So I'm at this party. I don't recognize anyone though they all seem to know me. I've been drinking what tastes like turpentine on the rocks and trying to ignore the music. The DJ must be suicidal or something, as he's been playing every acoustic 80's ballad and 90's Homecoming Court dance song I can think of. Maybe it's an engagement party. Maybe it's a wedding I stumbled into by mistake, which would explain a hell of a lot. I'm in the bathroom partly because I needed to check my lipstick and partly because I needed to get away from the crush of people for a few minutes. I'm about to leave when I remember the coke in my pocket. The way I figure it, this couldn't get much worse, so I wait in line for a stall and carve up two nice lines on my compact. I once thought they were only good for touch ups, but little did I realize their tremendous drug use potential. I take the first line in halves and the moment it hits my throat I realize this isn't coke at all but probably crystal meth or something like it. God dammit. The last time I'd taken a line that felt like that I'd ended up in the hospital. But the second line is just laying there all by itself and I feel bad for it, so I snort it too and get the hell out of there before the attendant starts knocking to check on me. It's just that kind of party.

About fifteen minutes later I'm dangerously close to being completely incompatible with these people. Not that we had anything in common to start out with. I'm absolutely sure this is a wedding now. The bride's dress seems to be attacking her and there's far too much red in this room. I happen to be wearing red as well and the wallpaper matches me almost perfectly. For a moment I'm afraid I'm being assimilated into the decor and I flee to my car. The ride home takes about four times longer than it usually does, which gives me plenty of time to think. Exactly what I don't need to be doing. I'm way up now, but I'm not looking forward to the comedown. I make it home without incident and settle in to watch some television. The only thing I can find is M*A*S*H and I almost have my boots unlaced when my cell rings. 

Three hours later I'm back in what used to be his room, in what used to be his bed. He called to tell me that he was moving out. And that he missed me. And other things. I don't know what to say at this point. I'm glad he called but hearing his voice made it so much worse, made the loneliness multiply in ways I hadn't counted on. The fucking meth isn't helping matters any. My mom always told me "Don't eat things you find" and I guess I should have listened to her, because it's been a fucking rough 48 hours-and-counting with no sleep and I pity anyone who has to be in contact with me for any reason. I need to get my face pieced back together again. My foundation's crumbling and the powder won't set it. Spackle for an underpinned smile.

I told him I'd been listening to the Cure a lot. I didn't tell him or anyone else just how much because it disturbs even me. "At least listen to Pornography", he said. He would deny me my Disintegration, but he who denied it supplied it.