the others can leave. those whispers in my head, sometimes they're loud enough to tell me things and sometimes they say they've left. I've noticed that none of my assistants nag me about missing appearances. They must be making all of them. They all seem to call themselves something different. They're all really different people, but they use my name.
My. My dead name. My former name, I mean. I'm just Magia Muse, now. They can call themselves Marve or Marvelous or whatever all they want.
There was one called Maggie. she was sweet. she was crying. she won't stop crying i i don't know why she's always crying but she says someone's hurting her I don't
I don't know what to do for them, when they get upset. It hurts me. They feel things that I, I haven't felt. In a long time, I mean. I haven't cried in, gods, probably fourteen years?
I haven't left the apartment in weeks. I'm not eating, I can't bring myself to. I have groceries delivered but I can't even bring myself to put them away, sometimes. I just drop them wherever.
Some of its probably rotting. It smells, but I'm pretty used to it now.
I can't turn on the holo set. I don't want to see someone wearing my face, pretending to be me.
I don't want anyone to see my face. They don't own it. They don't own me.
(softly) i can't go in the bathroom with the light on anymore. i keep seeing my nose, my eyes, in the corner of my vision. they're staring at me. i hate them so much, they keep... they keep judging me. i don't like this.
I can't sleep either. I think this recorder is the only thing I've even picked up in the last four days. It's so easy to talk when I don't have to.
I keep trying to practice my lines for the show but it feels like my throat is sewn shut whenever I try. I can't breathe.
The only reason I'm still alive is probably that nice fairy that keeps bringing me protein shakes and knocking until I have to answer to make the sound stop. I know I must look terrible but she doesn't say anything about it. She just hands me the bottle. She opens it for me and puts a straw in it. I think she knows.
She hasn't said anything though. I'd be getting a lot more paparazzi is she had.
(airy sigh, distant voice) I love her.
I want her to
I can't remember her name or her face. I don't think I've looked at her once. But she keeps doing things for me. I know its not in her job description or there'd be more people pounding on my door.
She doesn't even remind me about things I have to do. She just
I want her to–if I ask her she might–I mean she might if I just ask
I want her to kill me.
(a single shaky sob)
That's awful, I shouldn't say that, I don't want to die I don't want to kill myself I just want to...I want to...
I keep thinking about her hands. I want to touch them. I want them to touch me. I want her to wrap them around my throat. They're really small, I wonder if she's strong enough to squeeze hard enough to choke me. She'd have to sit on my chest to do it, probably. I wonder what she'd look like. When she's doing it I mean but in general too.
I should memorize her face next time she comes. Maybe I'll invite her in.
(a long pause. static from movement too close to the mic)
She doesn't have to choke me. She can poison me, if that's easier. Maybe she is already.
I feel so loose. My head rattles around sometimes like its going to come right off. It's so light it'll float up, up, to the ceiling and get stuck there. Take my spine with it like some balloon string, wriggle wire tie, some kid letting go when the novelty's gone, and its just some dead thing now because it's worthless and old and it doesn't do anything new it should just pop. gods, there'd be brain matter all over the walls could they even sell this place after that?
(light laughter, followed by a pause. a giggle, every now and then. a light snore.
the recording goes on for a long time.)
they say the goddesses' whims turns the world to ash. what sort of hellish humor have they that turns out beloved performer into this twisted caricature of herself?
what a mess. What an awful mess. She's so worthless, she never does anything right! Good for a couple of tricks and nothing else. Whorish bitch ought to know her place.
She even left the recording goi–[click]