#둘 𝐀𝐑𝐀 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆 / diary.

[uroborosymphony]

   Flamingos.

   2023, May. Ara's reminiscence of a gentle past, of love and friendship with @velvetineblue and @ofgentleresolve.

I was in his arms that day, in the evening, in the smallness of my college dorm room. Not the palace of my dreams yet I cannot prevent myself from smiling at the thought of these small yet somehow warm walls. I believe I've never truly been at home before meeting him, hence every single corner of earth we ever shared became Home, he is my Home. His fingers were running down the skin of my exposed shoulders, arms and palms as he was adoring every single inch of it, tender. It was in the late June, the windows open on a gentle night, a gentle breeze. He was smelling of summer and gasoline, after he left the boys behind, them causing havoc in the south of the city while he was here, giving me a little piece of the heaven he was. How was your day. He questionned, in a voice that was made of honey, deep and calming and loving and caring. My days were easily influenced by my swings, of moods and needs and rages and angers, even back in the days I was a little unstable like that. Hard to handle, not truly liked by many. It was harder to carry however, as I was lacking the maturity to simply let it go, let it flow, to consider myself above childish quarrels and wars, ones I was even starting against the other students looking down on me the way they do. Often I was getting disciplined, which was multiplying my hunger for more battles. I did not want anybody to control me, anybody to tell me what to do. You will be a brillant doctor Jung, but that attitude will cost you a lot. Would say one of these professors who liked my story, admired the fact I was from a dirty side of the road yet was fighting for a better life, wanted to help me.

"Tai. I think I have... a friend?"

My words came out as a confused confession, the type that comes in a gigglish voice, the type a young girl would make at the simple thought of finally connecting with someone in a hostile environment. I had friends, more or less, Taiyang's became mine, adopting me in their tribe, respecting me as his woman, his new sidekick for life, the one they would whistle him about when he would kiss me on his motorcycle. The young girls at the orphanage I was keeping an eye on, they were my friends as well, in a way, or perhaps little sisters under my care. I did not truly have a friend of my own, a friend to link arms with, a friend to share a melting ice cream with under the August sun, until I met her. "Mmmm, should I be a little jealous here?" He joked, catching the giddy smile on my lips, his index finger pushing my chin up as I was looking at him above my shoulder, my head pressed against his chest. I laughed out loud, the crescents of my eyes slowly folding. "Don't be silly," I said, perhaps a little enable to control this innocent joy of mine slipping through my grin. "But yeah, maybe you should," I replied with on a teasing tone causing him to laugh as well and lovingly bite a piece of my ear.

"Her name is Annie."

Her name was Annie. A girl from abroad. Our paths crossed a little early in the year and kept on crossing over and over again until we sit side by side, on the daily, down the library's outdoor stairs. A transfer student always attracts the attention, like a prey, regular students being the predators seeking new faces, new blood and new companionships. I never truly understood that, this need for something new, something fresh, something different like a source of entertainment and routine escapism. Perhaps I am a flamingo then, a creature that mates for life. I do believe there will only be a few presences in my life, a few ones I give a place to in my intimacy, in my heart, in my life, just them. Them, I wouldn't need more. My eyes crossing Taiyang's in 2013, I knew I loved him in all my lifetimes, has died and would die all over again for him as the universes will keep on bringing us back together. Hearing Annie's voice in 2018, I knew I wanted her to be my friend and that she would always be, no matter the countries, no matter the years that later would come in between us. I happened to be surprisingly shy during our first conversations with her. The type of shyness that screamed how much I wanted to ask her to perhaps go shopping with me, ane share a bubble tea in the grass while talking about little nothings. He smiled when I tell him all that, that type of warm smile I bask into, that type of warm smile that he always gives me. I feel a little silly, being a grown enough woman asking him if it's strange to give one of my bracelets to Annie on the day she will go back to America. He presses a kiss against my temple, he calls me lovely. The way he adores me makes him believe everyone else would adore me just as much. Perhaps what was the most foreign to me was this feeling, this feeling of belonging, this feeling of letting your guards down when finally, finally, you find the ones to make you smile, the ones to make you feel safe like I've never felt safe before, when finally, you find your flamingos.

[uroborosymphony]

   Love of my Life,

   2024, February 14th. Unsent letter to Taiyang Tseng.

Obsession. I'm obsessed with you. With the sound of your voice in my ear, my name rolling on your tongue, your touch down my back and loins, I feel you, deep, carved under my skin. You are my sun. Through years of a past of misery, of struggle and pain, you are my light. And I remember these hopeless nights begging for Gods to see me and they did, they made us find each other.

But now, she wants you, too. She is the eye watching me from the inside, the voice that gets louder than yours in the night. The things she says to me are so unbearable to the human soul, I cannot allow myself to share them with you. I'm haunted, Taiyang. By this monster of another Me that has been birthed from the deaths of my pasts and untold secrets. She makes me lie to you, every time I lay down by your side, everytime I look at you in the eye, you, the man who I promised my life, my core, my thoughts and my hearts to, she tells me Not to say anything about what we did, she tells me you wouldn't understand, she tells me you will leave us.

I don't remember exactly what she did. What I did - what we did. I simply know we're responsible of it. My nightmares and many realities are blending, hallucinations of scenes and demonic theaters I cannot write myself out of anymore. I stand on this stage, alone and she, becomes my shadow at first, my puppeteer at last. We watched the building burst into flames as we were laughing Oh we were laughing in ways we never laughed before, her and I, in ways I could feel my inside shaping, morphing, turning into something I couldn't recognize anymore . And then I cried, I cried for not knowing where I was, how I ended up here, not knowing why my hands were covering in all this blood and gasoline. It used to be games, with you by my side, my hair in the wind as the car was running, setting us free in the heart of the city. I am a prisoner now, a prisoner of these voices inside my head who tells me it's my Duty to kill.

I adore you. I adore you. I adore you. I adore you. I adore you. I adore you. I adore you. I adore you. I adore you. I adore you. I adore you. I adore you. I adore you. I adore you. I adore you.

Sun to my Moon. Joker to my Quinn. Clyde to my Bonnie.

I would kill for you. I would let the blood pour and pour until there is nothing left but you and I. Will she take you away from me? Will she burn everything around me for me to end up as alone as we have always been?

My mother once told me, You are a malediction, Ara. Jung women do not deserve happiness, Jung women are toxic, Jung women are poison. I see it now, us, Jung women are meant to this suffering she saw her own mother perish of. The white of the walls is hard for me to stand whenever I go to see her. I cannot bear the eyes she lays on me : I am her, her from a past - she wishes she could beat me up until she breaks skin for not fixing her the way she wished I could, when she gave birth to me. I cannot bear the eyes I lay on her either, she is me, a future I cannot escape : damned, locked.

I am losing my mind. I know I am. And I will spiral and spiral indefinitely, I will let it happen, I will let it take me whole. I used not to be scared, with your arms around me, your soul within mine, I used to be fearless. Am I still? Knowing the clock is ticking, knowing the end is coming.

She must kill them all, my Love, else I will never be free.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Unsent letter to @velvetineblue. From Ara.

[uroborosymphony]

  ara, in the mental palace.

"I lay outside of myself as I watch from the above. Distorted images of my own, the retrospective of alterned emotions and memories. The hundred eyes I laid on the world as I aged, they toyed with me, dancing around endless song melodies that has been rotting inside of my head. She, she is sitting by my side as she always has. We are safe here, she says, my hand in hers. As long as you don't let any of them in. My face morphs into hers and hers into mine. I am the daughter of my mother. A canvas of horror and truths and finally, I find myself. It is peaceful, to stare into the abnormality of the shape of my brain bent back and forth, eaten from the inside by its own hunger and insatiability."

[uroborosymphony]

   ─  Ara's halloween night : "Welcome to the Black Cat."

Her eyes, like the eyes of the feline do not leave the crowd as a smile adorns her lips, hungry and evilish. Oh Happy Halloween. The first party hosted by their club, the Black Cat couldn't be better chosen. Masks on masks on masks, a night where names are getting switched, forgotten and borrowed. There is nothing Quinn enjoys more than disguise, new faces on her own, stories of characters she decides to wear and become. To what? To play, of course. Her steps echo down the floor as she leans above the railing of the indoors balcony, like the royal on the people, like the predator in her jungle. The leather and lace she wears is black and the shade on her lips is red, reminding of the colors of the silk and the velvet of the cushions under the blinding lights. "Something on your mind?" Questions Grey by her side, always by her side, desiring to tend to every single one of her demands for the night. "A lot. There are many games to play on a night like this one, see. Let's have fun."

[uroborosymphony]

   Inside. Insane.

   2023, April. Ara's hallucinations through hunger.

"I hear you, at night. Crawling under my skin, my bones cracking under the pressure of your devoring soul. You, monster of desire and violence, unfed, unsatiable. Have you ever felt your brain twisting? Your skin switching colors under your bare wide open hunger filled dried out eyes? My hands are resting down the sink, the water is running cold, and my hair, falling above my head like the sorrows of demonic wipping willow. I raise, my shoulders shaking, the mirror greeting me with the sight of my own reflection, one I cannot bare any longer. Eat them. Eat them. Eat them. She chants, as a mantra, a prayer, an order I must follow. Or I will devour you. I cannot eat anymore, I want to vomit, to vomit this weight in my lungs that prevents me from breathing, from existing, from surviving her grip. How ironic, for a specialist of all mind mechanisms like me to come down this alley of non return, the one of watching myself losing grip on a reality I rejected for too long. Do you know how it feels, to understand up to which grade you have been scarring your own goddamn psyche, trapped in a circle of madness only you know the keys of? It's creepling as I'm wide awake, wide aware of every single wire of my mind brain disconnecting, burning under this fever I cannot control. I push my fingers down my throat as tears of rage pearl through this desire of pulling the demon within me, out. And I choke, choke and gag and cough, I scream, I scream and I bang my head against that sink and I fall, the taste of iron suffocating me as my head hit the the marble in a brutal sound. Taking my hand off my mouth I see it, dripping down my hand, dropping down the cold of the ground in a puddle of the blood. Liters and liters. I am tainted, from the wet fabric of my white shirt to my bare feet. I do not remember. I do not remember. I do not remember what I did but she does. I miserably pull myself up and I drag myself accross the room, desperately trying to escape. The furthur I crawl, the more I drown myself into this blood. Who's blood is this? Mine? She is devouring me. Whole."

[uroborosymphony]

𝐍𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄. PARANOIA. I see you, I see you, I see you.