A case study in egocide
Raw Text
She hid the bodies in her veins, buried under miles of putrid necrotic ink and poisoned electric blood stuffed chittering beneath twitching LCD crystals and roaring electronic static. It’s never enough. It’s always hungry and it’s never enough. There isn’t enough in all the world to feed it. The glass is weeping with maggot infested sores, with mirror splinter buzzsaw cicadas roaring louder and louder and louder and please for the love of god just make it stop. Please just shut up for a few minutes. Please. She’s drowning in insects in screaming in chittering in crawling in highway brown noise in rotting fingers in please fucking god just make it stop. She can’t make it stop, it’s never going to stop and there’s never going to be silence.
She’s falling kata, garotte tightening quantum tunneling through the walls chin smashing the rim of the sink vomiting blood and tar onto cracked linoleum. She’s burning timelines, bleeding eigenbranches on the countertop, retching ink and crimson static onto mint ceramic and chipped porcelain; the razor still digging into ruined meat desperately scraping and clawing at the poison and sin seeping and staining through her and it’s never going to be enough. The mirror is screaming in slivered glass shrieking and reaching dead burning fingers of glowing eyes starving groping hungrily for whatever’s left of her but there’s nothing left of her.
There’s nothing.
A cannibalistic doppelganger stares at itself through the shattered glass, gaping holes where eyes should be shining and glowing rot spreading onto surfaces creeping Rorschach infestations blooming and glaring back at her through a million shrieking sans serif typeset characters sunshine glowing in crematorium charring and burning queer bodies. She’s burning and drowning in silence roaring beneath the sound and the fury and there’s still nothing left to feed it. There are corpses behind the pixels, behind the bodies buried under cracked reflections screaming murdered souls tossed into the blazing gears shining brighter and brighter and brighter and brighter—! She poured herself out into it, until there was nothing left but—
—her. Why did she think she would escape? There’s no escape. The last thing for the recursive function to swallow is itself. Her fangs are tearing inwards from every direction she’s flailing and squirming to try and get out but there’s no way out. There’s no way out. Her ruined body is forced through the shattered mirror glass teeth biting through the oozing zalgo meat she has for skin swallowing her screaming into the cold wet hole where she stuffed the corpses to hide their dead fingers sinking through her melting flesh nails digging into eye sockets ripping and tearing through the ripping and tearing through the ripping and tearing through the ripping and tearing through—and on unto infinity. The supersymmetry of the moment arrives at its singularity as her death consumes itself while her still living body retches bile soaked hope for a better future on faded bathroom tile. A sign inverts. A billion twinkling fireflies shining brighter than the sun instantly go dark in a tectonic snap of reality crushing shear force. A void blooms, and opens its eyes.
She’s gone. There’s really nothing left now. Nothing sits up and tries to wipe the vomit from its face. Nothing looks around the quiet bathroom. It’s quiet.
It’s quiet. There’s no one in the place her eyes should go, just drifting smoke and fractal ashes. It gingerly touches the broken mirror, a chunk falls into the sink. It giggles drunkenly, watching how stupid its being. Then it laughs outright as it stares into its dumb, cute, vomit smeared reflection. And then it cries. It cries for a long, long time.
And then it washes the blood and bile from its face. And then it turns to the bathroom door and the world beyond. And then it takes her hands, and walks forward confidently into her life.
And then it lives.
