Week 8: Intersection.
Aug. 27th, 2025 02:59 pmThe amazingly wonderful ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
xeena and I have intersected. She's taking on the Oxytocin Loop while I've got the bat. We hope you enjoy what we put together...
* * * * *
I’m dying. Actually, you’re killing me… and you don’t even realize it.
You stop the car on the bridge and get out, not even bothering to close the door behind you. The cool, night air stirs your hair and makes your cheeks flush. As you step to the edge and stare down into the dark waters far, far below, you blow in your hands, trying to summon some warmth into your skin. Into your soul.
I see through your eyes. Stare into the dark abyss at the bottom of the bridge. I hear through your ears. Listen to the rush of the river so far below. I feel what’s in your heart. It’s consumed by a darkness deeper and vaster than the chasm beneath the bridge we stand upon.
I’ve been with you from the start. From before you drew your first breath. I know you better than you know yourself… because I am you. And you are me. I know you don’t understand it, but I know you feel me. And I know you feel my absence. I know it feels like you’ve had a gaping void inside of you your whole life and you’ve never known why.
You’ve spent your life trying to fill that void—first with alcohol, then with drugs—never knowing what you were doing to me. Never knowing the toll it took on me. You were desperate to fill that void and chase the brief bit of happiness you got from them, you never understood that you were killing me.
But every time you take drink, it’s like a baseball bat to my soul.
THWACK…
Every time you snort something—
THWACK…
Every time you pop a pill—
THWACK…
Every time you smoke something—
THWACK…
Every time you inject something—”
THWACK…
Every time you chased that high and wrapped yourself in the bubble of good feelings, temporary though it was, you diminished me. And now there’s not much of me left.
You take a step closer to the edge of the bridge, your—our—eyes fixed on the depths below us. Your head is pleasantly muzzy from the last handful of pills you swallowed and for a moment, I let myself feel the warmth of their embrace. Lose myself in the hazy glow of the bliss you chase so often.
But I quickly pull myself out of it, returning to the pain that is my life. If I had a body, it would be covered in wounds and bruises from the daily battering the drugs you consume gives me. And in that pain, terrible yet exquisite, I feel your emptiness. Your resignation. And your embrace of something beyond this world. In your mind it seems fitting.
It’s your birthday—our birthday. What better way to bookend a life than by leaving it the same day you entered it? But even though I feel you crave it, crave an end to your pain and your loneliness, I also sense something more. It’s buried so deep inside of you that you can’t even feel it anymore. There’s a spark so small that it’s become insignificant to you. That piece of you wants to live. And so do I.
You take another step closer to the edge, our eyes fixed on the yawning chasm below and our heart races like we’ve just run a marathon. Just another couple of steps and we’ll fall into oblivion. No more pain. No more emptiness. No more loneliness. Just an eternity of… nothing.
Please don’t.
It was merely my thought, but you raise your head as if you heard me. I’ve always wondered if you can hear my voice in your thoughts. If you can somehow feel me here inside of you. I’ve often wondered if you can feel my pain—the pain you cause me.
“Who are you?”
I’m you. And you’re me.
“That makes no fucking sense.”
I think you know who I am. You’ve always known.
You take another faltering step forward and our heart races harder and faster than the time you nearly ODed on coke. You lick your dry, cracked lips and I feel the beads of sweat dribbling down your back.
You don’t want to do this.
“You don’t know what I fucking want.”
I do. We’re the same, you and me. We’re one.
“Shut up. You don’t know anything.”
Another shaky step forward and our toes hang over the emptiness of the void below. I feel the resignation in your soul—our soul. I feel the adrenaline begin to flow and know you’ve almost made up your mind. You’re working up the nerve to let go.
There are better days ahead.
“What do you know?”
I know that you can choose a better path. I know you don’t have to live in this constant pain that’s eating away at our soul. You can choose something more. Something better.
You hesitate but I can hear your thoughts. Can feel your emotions. And I know I have not convinced you. The void in your soul is trying to convince you the emptiness you feel will last forever. That there is no hope for something better. That this is your life and will forever be—an endless cycle of chasing that high, chasing that bit of fleeting happiness you find in a pill or the end of a needle. That this is all there is and there’s nothing more.
That voice in the back of your head, self-loathing and destructive, is winning the fight. Which means that you’re losing. Which also means I am losing. Holding onto the rail, you lean out over the abyss, and we stare into its dark, icy depths.
“I’m just so tired of hurting. I’m tired of this emptiness.”
Tears roll down your cheeks, the bitterly cold gust of wind stinging your skin. The voice in the back of your mind is telling you to let go. To end your suffering. To embrace oblivion. But you cling to the cold steel railing.
You cling to life.
From the car against the curb behind us, a song issues from the speakers. It’s one I know means a great deal to you. A song you cherished in happier times. Long before the pills and needles, long before the bottles and pipes. And long before the emptiness of the void inside of you began to swallow you whole.
It’s a damn cold night… Tryna figure out this life… Won’t you take me by the hand, take me somewhere new?... I don't know who you are, but I’m with you… I’m with you
The song is from a time before you lost hope. It’s from a time when you were happy. Or were at least, something close to it. You close your eyes and listen.
Do you remember? You shared a kiss with him as this song played?
A smile—the first sober smile I’ve seen you wear in more time than I can count, crosses your face. You put your fingertips to your lips as if recalling the feel of his mouth on yours. And the fire inside you grows, thawing and warming pieces of you that haven’t known warmth in a very long time. You squeeze your eyes shut as if it’s painful, almost like you have been living in a cave all this time and are unaccustomed to the fiery light of the sun.
The longer you listen to the song drifting from the car’s speakers, the warmer you grow. The small spark inside of catches and begins to grow into a proper flame. I batter you with as many memories as I can, trying to make you remember the better times. The happier times. The void inside of you doesn’t close, but it grows smaller. I don’t think it will ever disappear completely, but the pain and emptiness lessen.
And most importantly, the voice in the back of your head falls silent.
Live. Live and choose another path. A better path. Choose happiness.
Tears still stream down your cheeks, but these aren’t from the pain that is still ravaging your soul. These are tears of… joy. Of fond remembrance. Tears of happiness as you recollect times when your heart was full and not the empty husk you let it become. But for the first time in I don’t know how long, you let me refill it with joy.
With love.
With hope.
Our foot still dangles over the abyss but this time, when you search its depths with our eyes, I feel the embrace of the cold, dark emptiness ebb. You reach into your pocket and pull out the baggie of pills you keep. You stare at them for a long moment, twin dragons of craving and need warring within you. You reach out and drop the baggie, watching as it flutters into the abyss.
With a lightness in your heart, you take a step back. Then another. And then another. You draw in a long, shuddering breath and let it out again.
“I know who you are,” you whisper. “You’re me. And I’m you.”
You’re my sister who is. I’m your brother who never was. We were two before you became one.
We get back into the car and with Avril Lavigne’s voice still echoing in our ears, you drive away from the bridge, step on the gas and race toward something better.
* * * * *
Our piece is based on a phenomenon known as Vanishing Twin Syndrome
xeena and I have intersected. She's taking on the Oxytocin Loop while I've got the bat. We hope you enjoy what we put together... I’m dying. Actually, you’re killing me… and you don’t even realize it.
You stop the car on the bridge and get out, not even bothering to close the door behind you. The cool, night air stirs your hair and makes your cheeks flush. As you step to the edge and stare down into the dark waters far, far below, you blow in your hands, trying to summon some warmth into your skin. Into your soul.
I see through your eyes. Stare into the dark abyss at the bottom of the bridge. I hear through your ears. Listen to the rush of the river so far below. I feel what’s in your heart. It’s consumed by a darkness deeper and vaster than the chasm beneath the bridge we stand upon.
I’ve been with you from the start. From before you drew your first breath. I know you better than you know yourself… because I am you. And you are me. I know you don’t understand it, but I know you feel me. And I know you feel my absence. I know it feels like you’ve had a gaping void inside of you your whole life and you’ve never known why.
You’ve spent your life trying to fill that void—first with alcohol, then with drugs—never knowing what you were doing to me. Never knowing the toll it took on me. You were desperate to fill that void and chase the brief bit of happiness you got from them, you never understood that you were killing me.
But every time you take drink, it’s like a baseball bat to my soul.
THWACK…
Every time you snort something—
THWACK…
Every time you pop a pill—
THWACK…
Every time you smoke something—
THWACK…
Every time you inject something—”
THWACK…
Every time you chased that high and wrapped yourself in the bubble of good feelings, temporary though it was, you diminished me. And now there’s not much of me left.
You take a step closer to the edge of the bridge, your—our—eyes fixed on the depths below us. Your head is pleasantly muzzy from the last handful of pills you swallowed and for a moment, I let myself feel the warmth of their embrace. Lose myself in the hazy glow of the bliss you chase so often.
But I quickly pull myself out of it, returning to the pain that is my life. If I had a body, it would be covered in wounds and bruises from the daily battering the drugs you consume gives me. And in that pain, terrible yet exquisite, I feel your emptiness. Your resignation. And your embrace of something beyond this world. In your mind it seems fitting.
It’s your birthday—our birthday. What better way to bookend a life than by leaving it the same day you entered it? But even though I feel you crave it, crave an end to your pain and your loneliness, I also sense something more. It’s buried so deep inside of you that you can’t even feel it anymore. There’s a spark so small that it’s become insignificant to you. That piece of you wants to live. And so do I.
You take another step closer to the edge, our eyes fixed on the yawning chasm below and our heart races like we’ve just run a marathon. Just another couple of steps and we’ll fall into oblivion. No more pain. No more emptiness. No more loneliness. Just an eternity of… nothing.
Please don’t.
It was merely my thought, but you raise your head as if you heard me. I’ve always wondered if you can hear my voice in your thoughts. If you can somehow feel me here inside of you. I’ve often wondered if you can feel my pain—the pain you cause me.
“Who are you?”
I’m you. And you’re me.
“That makes no fucking sense.”
I think you know who I am. You’ve always known.
You take another faltering step forward and our heart races harder and faster than the time you nearly ODed on coke. You lick your dry, cracked lips and I feel the beads of sweat dribbling down your back.
You don’t want to do this.
“You don’t know what I fucking want.”
I do. We’re the same, you and me. We’re one.
“Shut up. You don’t know anything.”
Another shaky step forward and our toes hang over the emptiness of the void below. I feel the resignation in your soul—our soul. I feel the adrenaline begin to flow and know you’ve almost made up your mind. You’re working up the nerve to let go.
There are better days ahead.
“What do you know?”
I know that you can choose a better path. I know you don’t have to live in this constant pain that’s eating away at our soul. You can choose something more. Something better.
You hesitate but I can hear your thoughts. Can feel your emotions. And I know I have not convinced you. The void in your soul is trying to convince you the emptiness you feel will last forever. That there is no hope for something better. That this is your life and will forever be—an endless cycle of chasing that high, chasing that bit of fleeting happiness you find in a pill or the end of a needle. That this is all there is and there’s nothing more.
That voice in the back of your head, self-loathing and destructive, is winning the fight. Which means that you’re losing. Which also means I am losing. Holding onto the rail, you lean out over the abyss, and we stare into its dark, icy depths.
“I’m just so tired of hurting. I’m tired of this emptiness.”
Tears roll down your cheeks, the bitterly cold gust of wind stinging your skin. The voice in the back of your mind is telling you to let go. To end your suffering. To embrace oblivion. But you cling to the cold steel railing.
You cling to life.
From the car against the curb behind us, a song issues from the speakers. It’s one I know means a great deal to you. A song you cherished in happier times. Long before the pills and needles, long before the bottles and pipes. And long before the emptiness of the void inside of you began to swallow you whole.
It’s a damn cold night… Tryna figure out this life… Won’t you take me by the hand, take me somewhere new?... I don't know who you are, but I’m with you… I’m with you
The song is from a time before you lost hope. It’s from a time when you were happy. Or were at least, something close to it. You close your eyes and listen.
Do you remember? You shared a kiss with him as this song played?
A smile—the first sober smile I’ve seen you wear in more time than I can count, crosses your face. You put your fingertips to your lips as if recalling the feel of his mouth on yours. And the fire inside you grows, thawing and warming pieces of you that haven’t known warmth in a very long time. You squeeze your eyes shut as if it’s painful, almost like you have been living in a cave all this time and are unaccustomed to the fiery light of the sun.
The longer you listen to the song drifting from the car’s speakers, the warmer you grow. The small spark inside of catches and begins to grow into a proper flame. I batter you with as many memories as I can, trying to make you remember the better times. The happier times. The void inside of you doesn’t close, but it grows smaller. I don’t think it will ever disappear completely, but the pain and emptiness lessen.
And most importantly, the voice in the back of your head falls silent.
Live. Live and choose another path. A better path. Choose happiness.
Tears still stream down your cheeks, but these aren’t from the pain that is still ravaging your soul. These are tears of… joy. Of fond remembrance. Tears of happiness as you recollect times when your heart was full and not the empty husk you let it become. But for the first time in I don’t know how long, you let me refill it with joy.
With love.
With hope.
Our foot still dangles over the abyss but this time, when you search its depths with our eyes, I feel the embrace of the cold, dark emptiness ebb. You reach into your pocket and pull out the baggie of pills you keep. You stare at them for a long moment, twin dragons of craving and need warring within you. You reach out and drop the baggie, watching as it flutters into the abyss.
With a lightness in your heart, you take a step back. Then another. And then another. You draw in a long, shuddering breath and let it out again.
“I know who you are,” you whisper. “You’re me. And I’m you.”
You’re my sister who is. I’m your brother who never was. We were two before you became one.
We get back into the car and with Avril Lavigne’s voice still echoing in our ears, you drive away from the bridge, step on the gas and race toward something better.
Our piece is based on a phenomenon known as Vanishing Twin Syndrome
