Today I have seen you outside, for the first time since all of this began… And I’m proud of you. No, I’m not proud of you neurotically twitching your knee while sitting, or you wondering all the time whether or not you should ask your neighbor for a mirror so you could check if your lips still looked bloody enough (thank whatever listens that you didn’t), and you clenching that knife in your pocket all the time wasn’t an act of great composure either.
Yet still, I am proud.
You are a naive woman at times, QP. You have many flaws, and I would lie if I said I don’t love to point those out. You are far more narcissistic than you think of yourself… deep down you believe laws and rules don’t apply to you, and you ignore them in such a manner that it damages your own health. Also, you may deny it all that you want but you have a sick, demented mind. You are the only person I know who gets off on blood, fear and pain, and I will never approve of that. Ever.
But know that despite my annoyance and even hatred of your actions, mannerisms and general antics, I do accept you. I would help you hide a body if necessary. I know that most of the time I criticize you, but trust me when I tell you this is for good reason. I know you, probably better than you know yourself. You are longing for control, in such an obsessive way that even when all rational arguments dictate against it you will oppose to a command simply to prove you have power over your own actions. You are obstructive and childish when it comes to that. You need to be criticized to stay relatively sane. Part of your mind will always be an obnoxious little toddler, and I can know it; after all I LIVE there.
And still, again despite it all, I am proud of you.
Proud because you were out there. I could feel how it made you feel, I sensed your exhaustion, and still you went on. You didn’t slip.
I accused you many times of having no spine, and yesterday (I suppose it was yesterday) I thought I saw my beliefs come true once again when you decided to go all zoned-out-breakdown on your parents while they were having visitors. Of course you didn’t do that on purpose, but you know how much I hate it when you allow your illness to get the better of you. I disgust you when you are weak.
Yet today, you weren’t weak. You did well, and I am proud of you, as proud as the figment of personality I am can be.
So here’s to you. Know that I am here for you, and I always will. To curse at you, to blame you, to clean up the mess you make and to hold you when you break down.
I love you.
The Riemann Hypothesis