YOUR QUIET NEMESIS - by Xallyheart

Part 2 Grief is for a loss. There was nothing to grieve. You cannot mourn a hallucination. What I feel is the white hot vacuum where my belief used to be. And nature abhors a vacuum. So I fill it with you. I am no longer a lover. I am an archivist of your destruction. I am studying you now with a focus I once reserved for dreaming of you. I am learning the source code of your joy. I am mapping the fragile architecture of your peace. You think the revenge of a scorned lover is shouting, weeping, fire. That is the revenge of someone who still cares. My caring has shattered like glass. It has broken into a million cold, sharp, cutting pieces. I will not shout. I will haunt. I will become the chill in a room you just warmed. I will be the reason the coffee tastes of metal on your best morning. I will be the shadow that passes behind your eyes when you laugh, the sudden, inexplicable halt in your breath. I will be the name that echoes in your skull just as you're falling asleep, ensuring you jolt awake, heart hammering, for no reason you can name. My absences aren't even noticed, it’s just a normal day for you. Oh, how my chest hurts. I never wanted this. I will orchestrate coincidences so precise they feel like fate. You will see my favorite flower on the day of your promotion, and it will taste like ash. You will hear a fragment of our song in a passing car, and your blood will turn to ice. I will be the ghost in the machine of your happiness. You will try to love someone else. And as you lean in, a memory will tap you on the shoulder. Not of my love, but of my eyes in that final moment of crystal clarity. You will see the exact nanosecond the light left them. And you will flinch. You will ruin it. I will make you paranoid in your own skin. I will turn your joy into a hall of mirrors where every path leads back to the wreckage you made. Oh, you see how you roll your time for me to feel this way? Well now I’m your nemesis. And I will name you. I will not call you by your name. I will call you by every name but your own. A hundred borrowed identities, a thousand wrong syllables. I will weave a tapestry of wrong names so thick you will forget which one is yours. I will gift you a new name with every conversation, until your own feels loose and ill-fitting. I will whisper the wrong name in moments meant to be intimate, and feel you stiffen. I will call you by a name I know you despise, and when you flinch, I will laugh. “God, relax. It’s a joke. Can’t you take a joke?” I will call you a thousand others and say it’s a joke. But the true artistry will be public. In a room full of your friends, my voice will ring clear and sweet with a name that is not yours. I will let the wrong name hang in the air, a small, persistent echo of your own sin. I will name you after every person who wronged you. After every figure who failed you. I will become a curator of identities that cut you, each one a precise, tailored violation. You reduced me to a mistake, a slip of the tongue? I will reduce you to a database error. A glitch in the system. A person with no fixed identifier. When you finally break, when you shout “That’s not my name!” with raw, ragged pain, I will tilt my head. I will offer a smile so soft it will feel like a slap. “I know. It was just a joke. . I will lose myself completely in this. The person who loved you is dead. What remains is their vengeful ghost. I won't let go. I will make sure every bone in your body yearns my name. I will break you more than you did to me, even if I lose myself. I will break you with the patience you never had. I will dismantle you not with rage, but with the serene, terrifying certainty of a natural law: you created this. You took a sun and threw it into a black hole. I am your black hole now. I will spend the rest of my life ensuring you feel the relentless, inescapable pull of my event horizon. I will make sure everything good in your life is bent toward me. That every victory is hollow, because I am the silence at its center. You wanted to be free of my need? Without you, I had to beg for attention where attention was supposed to be given mutual. You are now the sole obsession of my hate. It will be more faithful, more attentive, and more enduring than my love ever was. And it will never, ever let you go.

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