When Nemesis first descended upon me, I didn’t really believe it. You know the feeling when deadly confusion springs on you. This isn’t happening. No!
- denial of the gravity of the situation;
- once reality sets in, one becomes frantic;
- energy is expended and a strategy is executed according to what you feel is logical;
- deterioration as strategy fails; and
- energy and options depleted, you die (Not necessarily physically but certainly metaphorically).
Interestingly, the stages one goes through when attacked/lost/betrayed is the same as when someone is dying: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance.
Nemesis is as close as you are going to get to a modern day assassin. And she’s gorgeous. Hard to say what or who did monstrous things to her when she was young but she’s not fucking around. You’d do well to leave her be.
Echo was my girl. We were estranged but I belonged to her. Pan decided he would set me up, kill me and take Echo. But his plan backfired and he almost died at my hands. Still, in the melee Echo was mortally wounded. And now I plague Pan at every turn. This is what I do.
Nemesis was hired by Pan to take me down. So now we all dance by the pale moon light in a twisted, macabre, lethal three way. You are to committed to your capitalist gods to see the drama unfold right in front of you. You believe what your told so that you can return to work, as your gods demand. You like to think of this as your choice as that allows you to function. If by function you only mean consume. For everything else there is booze and Ambian. Oh, you’ll get excited over elections and your kids getting bullied and maybe if your lucky squeeze out an affair with someone young and regain for a moment a sense of vitality. But always you are following the script that the flashing lights point you towards. To afraid to veer off course as you might, die.
The point is that in accepting my death at Nemesis's hand, I am free to live. Paradoxical to be sure but that’s how it works. When I fear death, in any form, I become it’s prisoner. I cease to really live. But when I contemplate death, the various ugly and painful ways it will occur, and then does, I am...unleashed.
Ṇ
-We need, in every community, a group of angelic troublemakers. Our power is in our ability to make things unworkable. The only weapon we have is our bodies. And we need to tuck them in places so wheels don't turn. -Bayard Rustin
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