Boy walks along the beach, his head down and slouching.
Why…. Why did I ever do such a thing? Images and sounds swirled together and forced themselves within his head.  It’s funny how things explode when you pour them into a container and shake them up. Just add oxygen, and BANG! Simple chemistry. Luckily this mixture created an explosive, not an explosion.
But now everyone knew. Even her…

The ocean’s sighs pierced his consciousness and looked to the horizon.  Beyond the reaches of carnival lights and his own shadow, he saw utter blackness and what appeared to be tiny white-capped mountains along the currents.  If such mountains are under geology, under change, does time= water + force?
I really wonder if the monsters underneath that blackness like human flesh. Ugh, with the pale exploding eyes and needle teeth… I wonder if. He took a step forward towards the waves.  Five steps to go.

“Wait!” cried paranoia.  “What about your shoes?”

Four steps.

“Your new jeans, and those socks. You can’t be serious!”  

Three steps.

Paranoia started travelling up the spine, leaving paradoxes and neurons engaging in dialectics. “Don’t even think about getting your wallet wet! “

Two steps.

“Cassette player! Headphones!”

One step.

“Oh for God’s sake! What about that brand new shirt she gave you? Do you know how much money she saved for that?!”

Feet get wet and heavy.  Strange how it feels disgusting… but ironically we all like disgusting deep down within us.  He sat down in the warm currents.  Feels nice, the muddy sand with all of those tiny grains.

"What if each grain was a separate world?  Would there be someone like me?  With my problem?"

Images kept on flashing with static and sound. The pictures started to attach themselves to syllables.  

The boy laid his head down.  “Don’t be stupid! Who knows what lives in the sand?  They could crawl into your hair and gnaw their way in to get and kill me!”

Wait… air feels different now.  A scent travels in the air and goes like a dart into his nose and up to prick the brain.  Paranoia freaks out.
“Oh my… She’s here!”

And there she stood, with her black hair blocking her dark but gentle eyes. Her image imprinted itself into his mind: The way her jeans and hoodie looked only screamed words like deconstruction, defiance and…. and… beautiful. Unlike anyone else he had ever met, she did not need anything else to stir his passion for communication and the insanity of the id. The roundness of her face could arouse only him with a soft mouth and high cheekbones.  Her dainty hands and weak wrists gently wrapped in smooth, almost translucent skin could just reach into his mind and make paranoia god.  It would make the little demon analyze how the boy’s hair looked, what type of clothes he wore, the job he had and countless other things. The only thing that broke the spell of hypnosis was the lack of smile and absence of the tiny little glow that resided in her very eyes.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve just done to me? To us?”

He said nothing. How could he?  Paranoia had finally shut up and the monsters had become little black holes in his head, sucking his attention.  

“…Say something! After everything that has happened, you can at least show me that you care enough to give me a fucking answer!”  

The screams raked at his nerves as he started to get up.  He then faced her, dripping sand and mud.  He stank of lust and pornography. Of power and fear.
“There’s nothing I can say now about what I’ve done.  I guess it was wrong, and I understand that you are upset but---“

SLAP. To think that her soft lips touched that side of his face only days ago.   “You don’t know anything! ANYTHING!”  Her pleasant voice screeched into a siren’s cry and tears started to flow. A little more salt and water offered up to the infinite blackness.

“I do,” he mumbled as he tried to move his arm.

“No you don’t, you idiot!” Kicks are like bits of truth… they hurt and leave people different.   “Do you think that you understand me? Do you think you can save me? That’s nothing but your stupid sense of arrogance!”

Fire started to ignite in his mouth. “How can I?  You never tell me anything anymore. You never talk like you used to; it’s impossible to understand.”

He wanted to raise a hand and strike her…. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t dare. He still couldn’t hurt her, nor could he allow any harm to come to her.

“You idiot.  I know you’re just using me to comfort you. A fitting prize for you, am I? Just another fine specimen crammed into your memory like all those other specimens you call women. How many others do you compare to me? I’m sure the others have a bodily shape more pleasing to you, with slimmer waists, rounded, unnatural flesh for you to ogle at, and faces of goddesses to dream about. Well, if all of you can’t be mine, if I can’t be your only one, then I want nothing!”

How could she say that her skin, the tender touch of her hands and lips were merely… tools?  Those times they had spent together for the last year- were they really just for his pleasure? Didn’t she enjoy evenings filled with colored lights, tiny walks, and the brief moments where they held hands?

“Even if I were to be completely yours, it’s not like I’m the only thing in your heart!” Something sinister, a ghost of shadows crept out of the blackness and started to snake up his leg.  It injected malice into his eyes and allowed him to clearly see the fumes around her. Drugs and suicide, cutting and distorted aesthetics. Psychological pollution = bulimia and expectations hardwired.  And deep down, he felt disgusted and sickened with it all.

“Why- who… who the hell do you think you are?!” She stepped forward to slap him again, but this time he caught her wrist.  

“Did you honestly think that I was the only one with problems? Sometimes I wonder how you can be so beautiful and yet so ugly inside.”  

He pulled her close to see her face in the moonlight.  He saw what he wanted: a glare…. Because now, seeing her anger gave him a sick pleasure. The ghost in his head started to laugh. Power is now yours! Just show her who in reality has control.  
A wicked smile started to play on his lips as his grip started to tighten around her wrist. Deep down, a tiny voice, a voice of sick pleasurable dread said, "Too bad it’s not her throat."  At first, the muscles tightened in her arm, defense, assertion, the “I know what you’re doing, so stop!”  But the grip continued to constrict and choke. Smiles often grow, no matter what they express.

“Hey… hey! Stop! ”  She continued to struggle, to pull away.

"So this is what power’s like," he thought "To finally have a real choice, to affect someone so as not to be affected. Heh, even paranoia is gone now! Now, show me that desperate look and beg!"

But then she tried to pull away again.  It didn’t work; he was simply too strong.  But her arm slid a bit through his hand, and his palm felt something rough rub itself against his skin.  Scars!  Pleasure dissolved instantly as he jerked her arm into the moonlight to see her beautiful flesh marred with multiple scars. And then on the edge of his fingers, he saw the ugliness of a fresh scab.  Was it- could it be that she just…. After he-
He let go of her, horrified. Nausea struck and his kneecaps felt weak. He turned to the blackness and vomited. Good… catharsis, an exorcism of the ghost, of lust and power.  How could he forget?! It was because of those scars that he felt passion for her.  It gave him something he wanted to protect, an innocent face to preserve. He then remembered the first time they talked and how she smiled at him… oh, how he would do anything to help her maintain that smile and peace.  To help her forget her scars, and to protect her. Thoughts crammed themselves in his head: "No…. I wasn’t arrogant back then. I didn’t want to be a hero… I just really, really wanted to help her."

He trembled as he got up and turned to face her.  “I-I want to help you; I want to be with you... all the time.”

She was still scared as she saw what took place. What type of moron hurts a woman and throws up about it, only to return even more pathetic? But then she looked at her arm.  It was still red, and the scab started to bleed again.  

“Then stay away from me…. Because no matter what happens, you can only hurt me.”

“Hu-hurt you?”

“That’s right.  Did you ever wonder why I had such scars on my arm?”

“No. You had scars when I first met you, from your parents and-“

She glared at him as if to say “Stop denying your thoughts; for once, can’t you be different from everyone else and stop pretending that you’re innocent, that you don’t have any responsibility for who you are and what you do?!”

Her fingers slowly wrapped themselves around her sleeve. As she pulled it back, he saw more scabs mingle with old scars. Nausea hit again as new possibilities of cause flooded his head, each one screaming like a separate voice. But there was one that screamed louder than the rest. But in the interval of milliseconds, he couldn’t decipher the message until after she had said it.

“No. These… these are from you. From leaving me every single night and to crave the impossible.” His lips trembled.  How could he not have noticed her and how she looked a bit sad every morning when they met? It was a sadness that was able to predict the inevitable future of departing later that night. A sadness that knew she would have to spend the night alone.

She then saw his face twist up. "So he thinks that he can pretend and understand me now with a mere grimace?" she thought. "How disgusting. And yet… and yet……"  She wanted to scream at herself-no she wanted to take something, anything and kill her Other self, the self that was happy to see him come and try to hold her hand or caress her face. Yes, erase that self which believed that the impossible was possible, that she could communicate with him fully. But she knew that people could never fully understand one another-not enough to truly communicate, nor to truly know one another. And that’s why that other side of her, that Other must die, so that her heart would be clear of conflict, of cognitive dissonance. Better yet, why not kill both selves, so that there would be nothing to complain about? Wouldn’t it better if she didn’t exist if no one understood her or needed her? Nothing would change, even if I were to live. She turned away from him and bowed her head, simply because she had no more resolve to keep it up.

Seeing her like this, apathetic and pathetic, he couldn’t help but think of what he could do to help her. Paranoia set back into his brain.  “What about your own problems? All of your friends are gone now… your father won’t even look at you anymore after you told him you never wanted to be a lawyer nor a doctor.  And it’s not like mother will rise from the dead.  What ABOUT YOU?!”

“*******, help me… only you can save me now.” He started towards her again, with his hand outstretched.

“Liar,” she replied as she turned around to face him, forcing him to withdraw his hand as if he was burned.

“You don’t care who you’re with, who you smile with, whose hand you hold, who you talk to!”  She started to step forwards toward him.  Apparently an exorcism doesn’t kill a demon… it just kicks it out of its host, making it look for a new host.  It slowly grasped onto the girl’s head, caressing her scalp and injecting cruelty and vengeance into her brain… it was the most potent drug she had ever taken.

“Because you’re father doesn’t acknowledge you anymore, your mother is dead, and no one else needs you, you come to me for comfort.  That’s least harmful to you now, isn’t it?!” She was now face to face with him again.  

Oh-oh God. He trembled in front of her, paralyzed by her accusations.  Her words hurt and started to cause his mind to collapse.   If there’s one thing paranoia is known for, it’s claustrophobia.  “The walls…. The walls of pride are closing in around me. What do I do? What do I do? WHAT SHOULD I DO?!”

Paranoia then jumped into the boy’s mouth and screamed. “Somebody… somebody please help me!  Don’t leave me alone!  Don’t laugh at me, don’t reject me! Don’t kill me!” He then choked for more air.

She started to tremble too.  She knew he was sorry, but... hadn’t he just hurt her? No! Don’t let the Other self talk! The ghost then helped her to choke herself, her Other self.  Now, she will remind him of his cruelty, so that he would know that she too is a person… more than he will ever be. The ghost in her head started to laugh again. What fun it is to fuck things up when people are such fragile little things… like dolls made of sugar glass.

“No.” she said. Then she turned away and walked away towards the city, limped away towards the city.  Tears streamed down her face, but she wouldn’t cry, even if it meant her body would snap in two.  She knew she was hurting him, but he hurt her, so… so-
___________________________

The water still felt nice along his feet as the rest of him felt numb. Good, a little sensation proves I am alive….but it’s not enough; it never enough!

He looked to the blackness and thought of everything: the quadratic formula, the monsters, Tolstoy, computers, his father’s favorite tie, exams, meal tickets, bombs, his guitar, polygons, heuristics, and moments.   The streams of information came in chunks and flowed like liquid into his mind. Moments with her, bits of smiles and fragments of “I love you” and “I care for you” dropped like teeth.  The thing is though, teeth don’t shatter into dozens of shards, shards that are random and beautiful.  Not like this. Splinter the mind, inflammation.  Great, more chemicals to add; a whole new explosion possible. And from the new result come fumes of suffocation.

Step by step, he trudged onward without knowing where he was going. Each step made his heart work harder to spread the blood throughout his body,  but also allowed poison to travel faster, faster to the head. A venom of apathy is perhaps the deadliest thing, able to turn a knife on itself.  It is such venom that strangled and immobilized paranoia within his head.  But as always, fixation on the self is inevitable and even immortal.
He continued to walk intoxicated on the soft sand. "I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please forgive me so we can be together again. If we’re together then we- He stopped in his track and fell on his knees.  Then I… I can be happy. But was I really happy? Maybe she’s right, maybe all I see her as is a tool, a thing that pleasures me so; so many images of women have made me feel good, and now, every pixel of their smooth skin is burned into my memory. Does that mean I have never, ever been happy with her? Can I be happy with anyone?"

Questions shot off like a chain reaction, a fuse that wrapped itself around his consciousness and snaked it’s way into his brain, the container. It happened then. He never heard the footsteps behind him as he collapsed on the ground and screamed for the explosion in his head. BANG! POW! BOOM! WHAP! Lights out!
-------------------------------------
"Why am I still on this stupid beach?! The landlord always wants people in by two o’clock, and what time is it now?"
She looked  at her cell phone to check the time (and maybe a missed call?). 1:50 am (and nothing).  "It’s all just a sick joke. I should have known that people can never understand one another. Now I guess I know that I’ll never try again. If it’s pointless and bound to fail, why start it again at all?"

Yet she looked to the buildings in the distance and reluctantly realized that her Other self hoped that amidst the light, amidst the countless windows embedded in concrete and in the depths of wood, wiring, and that stupid fluffy insulating junk that someone would acknowledge her and take care of her.  She then dug into her pocket and pick out something; it was the picture they had taken together. Just one.  She remembered that she was going to give this to him today, to express what she thought of him and their time together.  It was funny how happy she looked in the picture, grabbing hold of his arm and resting her head on his shoulder.  She could also tell that he was nervous in the picture. "Heh, couldn’t even smile straight, could you?"

On top of the picture was a cassette tape, a compilation of affection that she had made for him.  Interesting how a lot of time they would just sit together and fall asleep listening to music. Not exactly the “normal” way to spend time, but perhaps that’s why she liked him, why she let her Other self grow .  "No, no, no! What am I thinking?!" screamed her mind. "He just- he tried to hurt me! Just looking at him, to see him smile like that! To smile as if he knew! But he doesn’t know anything, nor could he ever!"

“Stop tormenting me already!  Even if I liked you, I hate you even more! Dammit, it makes me sick just looking at you! My life’s falling apart, and I don’t want you in it!”
She trembled as she heard the words forced out of her throat and past her teeth.  A hand over one’s lips is really and quite honestly a pathetic gesture; it can never take words back or erase the splatter of ugly paint on a once-white and beautiful canvas. And then she heard the scream.  The noise from the explosion, the effect of catharsis.
-----------------------------
He woke up with his head throbbing.  He felt the back of his head and grimaced at the wetness and stickiness. Great. probably blood. Wait a minute… His wallet and cellphone were gone. Did I just get mugged? He looked at the sand and noticed that it was glowing.  The sky was still dark…. But why were the clouds green and the stars red? Is this a dream?

And in front of him was a giant wall. He looked to one side and saw it go towards the water… but no matter how far out it went, it was still as tall as it was on land.  To the other side, there was no city- just more sand. Definitely a dream.

He tried pinching himself, but all he realized was that he was hurting himself.  "Well, might as well walk along this wall and see where it takes me."

THREE HOURS LATER

"Well, that’s that." He sat down and leaned against the wall in frustration. Nowhere to go now, but along a vast wasteland.

“You never were the athletic type, you know that?”

He scrambled to his feet and turned, but was nothing but the wall.
“********?”

“Well, who else would you think it would be?”

Something’s not right…  “Why are you here?”

She wanted to tell him that she heard him scream, that she wanted to help him, but….
The silence ripped into him as he turned his back to the wall. He then started to feel his eyes water. “Why are you here?! I thought you never wanted to see me again!”

He started to pull his legs into his chest and clenched his teeth, waiting for answer while strangling a sob forming in his throat. A season of cold silence, the worst.  The ocean froze over.

He then heard her voice trembling as well as she choked out the words, “I hate you. You, who are able to dirty me and other women without a second thought and yet, I… I still can’t get you out my head. Stupid splinter.”

“I know you do,” he said, almost crying. “I hate myself as well. But you know that I hate you too. I can’t stand how needy you can be, to the point of… of just being pathetic with all your addictions.”

She clenched her fists and pictured herself on top of him with her fingers around his neck and started to squeeze. "You…. You won’t even resist, will you? Just die and stop fooling me into thinking that you will be mine."  But that smile, that cursed, stupid smile spread upon his lips and spoke for his throat.

She then felt his fingers run through her hair as she saw tears fall on his face. And then, a hand on her shoulder, it was her Other. It smiled weakly at her and tugged gently at her hands like a child. She had to let go. The picture shattered. She was about to say something when she heard him from the other side.

“*******, wait, please. Don’t go. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean what I said earlier.”
The ghost in her head started to loosen its vice like grip. The malice that lined her tongue started to dissolve, but it still floated in the air like a faint vapor.

“How pathetic. Apologies don’t end anything. I will never forget what you’ve done.”

“But… apologies aren’t endings of conflict, they’re just new beginnings.”

She then looked up. The hate started to let go slowly.
“… What’s going to happen to us?”

“I really don’t know.”

“You…. You really don’t hate me, do you?”

He wiped the tears in his eyes and smiled, glad that she couldn’t see him.
“No, I don’t. It’s just that I was scared of you until now.”

The ghost started to twitch nervously… its host was starting to reject its existence. But it wouldn’t go down without a fight. Its grip started to tighten again. “Scared? Of what? You always were cowardly.”

He gulped as he revealed the secrets of paranoia. “I never did want to dirty you, but I did once. After that, I was scared that you would find out, find out that I was not who you wanted me to be.  Then you would leave me just like my father. But…. You’re-you’re like him, right? You don’t hate me, do you?”

On the other side of the wall, she dug her fingers into the sand as the ghost took hold of her tongue and spewed out disgusting words. “Yes, I hate you! You can’t accept me for who I am, you who look down on me! You’re nothing but a coward! A perverted coward! I mean, you won’t even hold me, but you undress me in your mind!”

He sighed. Ironically, he felt calmer than before.  Confessions and truth hurt, but pain can set you free. “You’re right… I have made mistakes that I will never forgive myself for. And I was scared for so long of you and every one of your expectations. But now, I’m not afraid to say that I forgive you for all that you have done, and that I still care for you. It might be all the same to you, but I want you to know that I wouldn’t trade you for a “perfect” woman or anyone else in the world!”

Suddenly, she felt the heat rise up to her face. Forgiven? No one’s perfect, and she did hurt him before.  

The ghost screamed in rage as she started to rebuke it and push it out of her mind.
Go away! You haven no place in me now! Take your mischief, take your malice and just GO! She dropped to her knees and put her hand to her mouth. She started to writhe.
He heard her shout and struggle on the ground and desperately started to climb the wall. Surprisingly, it was easy for him to gain his footing, and in several minutes, he managed to jump off of the top of the wall.  He found her with her face in the sand and something black leaking out from under her mouth. He frantically grabbed her by her shoulders and leaned her against the wall.  She was still gasping for air.

“Oh… what happened?” She brushed the hair from her eyes and looked up at him with surprise. “########, you came. Why?”

“You were in trouble and I thought that… You don’t really hate me, do you?”

She paused for a second and remembered the things she had screamed at him. More tears. “No… I could never truly hate you. Not after I have forgiven you.”

A smile brings relief and more communication. “Good.”
He brought his hand up to touch hers, but when they did, they both withdrew their hand as if they were burnt. After such tension, lovers are always sensitive like raw skin, and it takes time to heal such scarring pain. He then sat next to her, not knowing what he should say now that they couldn’t touch.
“Do you have your cassette player with you?”

He reached into his pocket and pulled it out. Hopefully it still works.

She reached into her pocket and pulled it out.  Hopefully it still sounds good.

As she put the tape in and pressed the PLAY button, he took out his earphones and gave her one.  Guitar riffs started to mix together with drums. Just like old times.
She then took out the picture and unfolded it. “Do you remember the time we took this picture?”

“Yeah… we had just finished listening to this song. What was it called?”

“It was Moonlight by Mono.”

“I like how there are so many variations to the song.”

“What if this song represents us right now?”

“Hm?”

“What if we’ll just keep wandering in circles like this song, fighting over the same things, getting overtaken by our affection for each other, only to find something new to fight about? Isn’t love pointless and then impossible?”

The boy smiled as he turned his head to her. “Love isn’t a destination or something we achieve necessarily; it’s a journey. And if that journey is never-ending, at least we’ll never stop experiencing the thrill of it all.  Actually, I can only promise that I will never get bored of it all. Will you?”

She sighed and shook her head. “Yeah, I guess I won’t either.”
--------------------------------------------
An old man made his way across the beach. He always walked from one end of the beach to the other to see the sunrise. As he started to get closer, he saw something rather peculiar. Up against a broken slab of concrete (used for construction), he saw a girl and a guy asleep.  As he got closer, he noticed that they each had an earphone in their ears.  Next to the boy was a bloodstain, and by the girl, a strange stain of blackness. And then he noticed something funny about the two of them: they weren’t holding hands; instead, their arms and hands were placed in such a way that only their pinkies overlapped each other’s.