Death Does Not Become Me....

So I thought long and hard on ideas how to keep my lover in my arms and not in Death's arms. After seeing his pitiful face several days ago when he begged me to stay with him til the end, I've been determined not to let him go. He seemed Hellbent that his death was inevitable, and I didn't realize how difficult it would be to convince him to continue trying, to find a way to live. But I did, I layed out surefire ways to help eliminate the demon possessing his body and he finally acquiesced to try. It was my mistake that I started with what I call 'small fries.' I burned some sage around the Townhouse and layed a line of salt around the perimeter of all the rooms. I knew this wouldn't do much, if anything at all, but at this point, I was willing to try anything. He grimaced at me, thinking my idea ridiculous. Of course it was ridiculous, salt isn't going to expel a demon in the body, but it will feign off more danger. It seemed like he really delayed o

We were supposed to have long baths, piggyback rides, nights drinking coffee, and being the cutest couple at any party. Now he's screwed it all up, finally talking to the Professor who claims he only has a couple weeks before the demon inside him consumes him completely. See what revenge got anybody? Nothing. I'm going to lose my Zillahface to death... I'm going to lose myself. It would have been better not knowing.

So I've been avoiding the new townhome in London. Actually, I've been avoiding London all together. I'm not sure, but my fight of flight reflex has kicked in, and I'm doing everything I can to suppress it. Every moment in his company I have to choose my words for fear of the smallest thing setting him off. Last time I was in the new place, we were getting into the business of snogging and he started an argument. I just want kisses and caresses, not goosebumps and adrenaline rushes. So I leave, telling him that when he's ready to get back to our lovemaking, he can find me. But what does he do? He stalks me, finds me, then continues his weak arguments. I truly don't understand why he doesn't understand. He's always got this look of hope on his face when he asks me if the Professor is around, but then turns when I tell him I haven't seen him. Why is he relying on that faker who has only hurt us more in the long run? Not only has this "Pro

We sat down last night and wrote down the pros to keeping this demon and the cons of keeping it. I'm afraid there's still more room on the paper... I see the obvious choice... does he?

Let me clarify to you, dear journalthing, that I do not want children. I will forever be a kid inside this body. I can only relate to kids if I'm causing trouble with them. In no way could I ever parent anything . The one time I let slip that most gypsy women my age have about a dozen kids by now, Zillah thinks I want kids. Nooooo waaaaaaaay. I want to keep my cute little hips and my perky chest. Once you have kids, everything sags. I can name some people that has happened to, but I don't want to get firestormed. Live and breathe through the eyes of a child... why live vicariously through your kid if you can still live yourself? I've only enough time for myself and for Zillahface. And I heard you stop having fun bathtimes after you have kids. I am not putting myself in that situation. No. Way. So yeah, Zillahface, if you want to put in another bedroom at the new place for Ameera, go ahead. But you should know by now that I'm not going to parent her... I'm pr

Saw that gap again today. While you were begging me to stay. Take care not to make me enter. If I do we both may disappear. Saw that gap again today. While you were begging me to stay Managed to push myself away And you as well, my dear And you, as well Pushed you away my dear I will choke until I swallow Choke this infant here before me What are you but my reflection? Who am I to judge or strike you down? But you're pushing me And Im shoving you And your pushing me And Im shoving you Rest your trigger on my finger, Bang my head upon the fault line You better take care not to make me enter If I do we both may disappear But you're pushing me And Im shoving you And your pushing me And Im shoving you You still love me We're pushing and were shoving And you're pushing and I'm shoving You still love me And were pushing and were shovin

When members of a gypsy caravan are deathly ill, it is common practice to put them in their own caravan bus to live out the rest of their days. It's not that they're shunned or banished from the rest of the caravan, it's more like no one wants that curse to spread. Sure, we all visit this person, giving food and the gift of talk, but once it gets to that point, he or she is mostly out of sight, out of mind. We've always cut our ties easily, knowing that is how life works and that we must always go forward. I suppose this is how I differ from my people. I would frequently visit my Uncle Tio, who was one of the unfortunates blessed with his own bus. These visits are when I'd hear those lovely stories I write here or even the life lessons he felt I needed to know at my young age. He would tell me, and it makes sense now, that "Your own person is the most important thing," that I "shouldn't rely on others when you can do it yourself." This

In hindsight, what I did was absolutely nuts. Some wave must have rolled over me, making me act the way I did, completely out of my norm. Usually when I want something, subtle hints and manipulations do the trick, but in this case, straight out demands (and commands) seemed to work. Zillah was consumed completely by this stupid demon that thought it fun to chase me around Paris and try to kill me. Yeah, imagine that, the love of your life --- possessed by a demon, in the same body that you know so well -- hunting and stalking you, ready to rip your guts out and feed them to the birds, or eat them himself. Who knows? I was scared shitless, hiding in other people's chateaus, in crowded streets, yet the bastard kept finding me. But like all horror movies when the main character is running from the badguy (upstairs nonetheless *eyeroll*) he finally confronted me back at the Rhyme and lunged at me like a madman. His strength was noticeably more enhanced as he wrapped his cold hands arou

The words, "I promise" never actually left my lips when Zillah insisted I stay in Paris. When he saw me in the warehouse, a look of shock filled his face. He lay there on the zabuton, his body contorted unnaturally, ooze seeping from untold wounds, and the sunglasses he had donned for so long smashed on the floor in bits. I've never seen him look so shitty, it totally unlike him to be seen in this state. After insisting that I leave, he acquiesced when he realized I wasn't going anywhere. I didn't ask any questions, because I knew once I started, I was going to scream at him, telling him this was the worst possible thing he could have done to us. What has he done? I coerced him into letting me clean his wounds, cleaning out the bits of flesh that still nested in his cracked skull, and pulling his chest scar stitches back together, which had opened up, leaving his breastbone exposed to the elements. He face contorted constantly, from awe, to maliciousness,