radicallyReckless's Guestbook

A Single Line of Red
by radicallyReckless (Andre)

A single line of red on my most loved and despised canvas

A single drag from the awful calming burn, oxygen hurts worse

A single swipe of the hand can ruin a life, maybe three, maybe four

A single hit and the world turns to fuzz and fairytale

A single sip and I'm open, ready, useful. How tragic indeed, to only be of use when I'm gone

A single slip of the mind, a slip of the guardrails so carefully installed by bitter workers, piece by piece defending the castle walls and the horrible king that lies within

A single touch.

It doesn't take much at all for the sky to come crashing down onto my head. I would be more careful if I wasn't lightning, fast and unthinking and destructive to everything unfortunate enough to fall in my path, into my hands, breaking, burning, awful.

Trust is a fickle thing, and an evil one. It brings only the worst out in those you place it in, and in yourself, in your thinking, in your actions. Never again.

My words create and destroy. I must choose them with care. I can't care.

In the end, the walls will fall. Destruction from the inside out, and the castle will crumble, and the king will fall. All the subjects will see him, and see the kingdom, as it truly is. I pity them.

A single line of red turns into two into three into four, the canvas is covered now. I must hide it.

Author's Notes:

I don't even know. I'm probably going back to the hospital this weekend. Either that, or I'll be gone. I guess we'll see. It's comforting knowing that this site is dead, and I'm posting into the void. Just me here.

The Curse of Grandeur

by radicallyReckless (Andre)

The curse of grandeur is to know that you are nothing and everything at once.

People don't care to know you, just to touch, just to feel. You are beautiful, they say. So good.

Those that truly know the grand will turn tail and run, or ignore the truth that makes them shake. It isn't comfortable for the subject of the study, but they can't see that. They see nothing.

The grand knows himself, yet he refuses to see anything beyond the grandeur. It isn't comfortable for the subject of the study, and he sees that, he sees everything. He is nothing and everything at once.

The grand accepts bruises and bites so long as he can retaliate. Maybe he even acted first. He forgot that karma returns the marks he inflicts. Not the same slice, but the mental scar. The grand aches with bruises he created. He allowed it. He didn't say no.

Is it worse to know that they wouldn't listen? He allows the study despite the uncomfortable nature because he still feels like he has a choice. He doesn't. He never did.

The grand will learn to hide. He will learn to sneak, to do better, to never get caught again because the forces of the universe are terrifying when they see him. He isn't meant to exist. He cannot function with the world he has been given, yet he refuses to change. He can't. He will never learn to do better, just to do quieter. Blend deeper with the shadows.

He doesn't need to do better. He is the best, after all.

This is the curse of grandeur – he is anything but grand.

Author's Notes:

Yes I'm using this like AO3 for my wiriting. Shut up. This is about some shit going on in my life right now, but it's primarily about my narcissism. I'm decently sure I have either NPD or ASPD. It's either one with traits of the other or both. This is about that.

IDK how to use this site so I'm gonna assume this is for text posts? I'm gonna use it for text posts and to archive my writing.