I can sense you long before your arrival. You send secret messages to me taunting me with your distant presence as you inch toward me. Like a sultry lover you take your time, teasing me, flirting with me, sending sweet thrills through my body and mind before dissipating into the night once more.
I know you are there, simmering away, gathering heat and energy, gathering momentum before exploding into my being, overwhelming me and possessing me. Even though I sensed you coming, it still always takes me by surprise once your iron grip tightens around my mind, squeezing out every last essence of my sense and judgement. I still feel shocked when I catch myself in thoughts and acts that you orchestrated, making me perform like your puppet, your plaything.
I crave the reckless abandon. I long for the freedom, the vigor, the sexuality. I yearn for the creativity and the spirit. I want to stretch my wings and fly with you propelling me higher and ever higher, into dizzying heights. I want to look far below and see the tiny people beneath us moving to and fro, to and fro, while we soar and dance and spin.
When you first possess me, I thrive. I’m at my best and in my element. All shadows of doubt and depression, of loneliness and weariness fade away. I am reborn, reincarnated, reinvigorated. I am a newer and better self. This is the self that they love. Come, sweet Mania, and revive the dormant self within me that is begging to get out.
But you take your time with your arrival, or so it seems. You toy with me, allowing me to adjust to each increment of pleasure, so that once you are in full control, there will be no resistance. You leave me restless and impatient, waiting, waiting for you to finally drown me, saturate me in your glamour and glory. This is how it seems anyway, with you ever so slowly taking over. I take no heed of red flashing neon lights and warning signs. I lean into the impending danger and chaos. I fling the door wide open and welcome you in, forgetting all about past promises to evade you. My adrenaline soars in anticipation and butterflies do somersaults in the pit of my belly.
Sometimes, I look for you. Sometimes, when the mundane is simply too weary and the routine of life feels like the weight of the world is upon me, I look for you. I look for you in pills, in late nights, in excitement and chaos and mayhem. I let go off my monotonous restrictions, throw my sense and schedules into the wind and tempt fate. And sometimes, I find you.
It’s funny, sweet Mania, how I forget the bitterness that you also bring. It’s never until I am rendered helpless by your force that I remember how sadistic and savage you can be. You betray me every time and yet I never seem to recall how much you hurt me. How much devastation you wreak over my life and the people I love. Your trance is powerful and you pretend you won’t hurt me again. You convince me that this time, this time, it will be different. We will rule together. It won’t be a dictatorship like all the other times. You are a liar.
You build me into your femme fatal and I play the part with conviction. I am your temptress, your vixen and you watch on as I lure men into our underworld of hedonism and endless pleasure. And before I can slow down, the sex becomes compulsive. You fill my mind with temptation, fill it to bursting and suddenly I can’t think of anything else, I can’t function, I am consumed with the need for gratification. A primal, guttural, desperate need rises beyond all logic and sense. It doesn’t matter where we are or what we are doing, we seek out every opportunity to fulfil the gnawing, aching lust. And it is never enough, there is no satiation.
You urge me to prim and preen. I pamper and powder and adorn my body. Somehow, the feeling manifests itself until I wear your confidence like lacy lingerie and it fits so perfectly, so sexily. I catch myself in every shiny surface and I seen a siren reflected back at me. I see the sparkling eyes of a woman I don’t really know, and yet she fits so well within me and all her coy words and her sultry whispers are familiar on my lips. I sway my hips and toss my hair the way I know she would. The way I know you would approve of. I revel in this persona that is me and is not me.
I revel in what you do to me, Mania. I am on edge. And so I succumb. I yield. Again and again. I am your captive and for you, I captivate others. I follow my senseless senses and indulge every whim and instinct. I abandon all else and all others to be with you, here and now. I follow you, soaring into the expanding skies, skimming the edge of the world, floating upon the currents of the clouds.
Who am I again, Mania? Have you uncovered my secret darkness or have you adorned me in the costume of a Queen? Have you released a madness that is forever lurking inside me or sent a demon into my soul? Was I your muse? Your lover? Your joker? I can’t see my own reflection anymore, Mania. You hold firm, the rose coloured glasses up to my face, and I relish the look of this romantic, feminine new world. Until the pink deepens to red, blood red. Demonic, terrifying, enraged red.
Through the chaos and confusion about who owns this mind we co-inhabit, I look down to see the broken shackles you released me from, if only for a while. I see the memories of a lifetime etched into my brain and the trail of colour and creativity you invoke within me. You enrich my life in more ways than I can describe. You make me feel alive and in love in the most wonderful and most terrible ways.
Mania, you are the temptation and the tempest. The prize I can only claim in purgatory. The creator of chameleons. The Lord of lust, lovers & loss. Filled with dreams and drama, we are destined and we are doomed.
Forever and foolishly yours,
Image by Dimitrisvetsikas1969 on Pixabay