Narcisse - Volume II

I1 hate2 you3.
1 My struggle continues. Despite trying to convince all of my selves, and all of you, that I am indeed the lord and creator (or am I?), you refuse to believe. You should know that I have decided upon a triumvirate in order to express myself – me, myself and I (or father, son and holy spirit if you must) will indeed be my mantra for the eons to come. Duality is so last century – the truly magnificent attempt three or more selves to make their voices heard. I thought about four, as I’ve always wanted to be a barbershop quartet. But the uniforms are horrible, and I don’t sing Basso Profundo quite as well as I should. So, settling on three, I happened upon a popular fairy tale concerning a schizophrenic god with a penchant for smiting and setting things on fire. I’m good at that. Especially the fire. I like the pretty lights. They burn. As will you. 2 Hate is such a strong word, but it’s amongst the most honest of emotions that I think if I were to feel anything else for you all that it would, indeed, be a lie. To hate takes effort, for love can be anything from a loose collection of positive feelings to an all-encompassing glow that arrives unbidden and refuses to leave, like family at Christmas time or the police when you kill someone. But to hate... that is an aspiration worthy of a god. To smoulder with unaccountable fury over the slightest of things, to rage into the darkened skies and howl previously unheard-of insults at the population of this small, spinning stone... I could get to like this. Prepare yourselves, for the day of reckoning has arrived. I am in charge. I am the one to fear. I am the god. You must believe me. If you see me in the street, ignore the earthly shell you might recognise and feel the awesome power that emanates from my soul. Shut your eyes and pretend, for a moment, that my voice can shatter mountains and extinguish the sun. Believe in me, I command you. Believe! 3I can hear your prayers, but I still don’t feel as if you’re talking to me. I don’t think you’re trying. Saying the same thing to me over and over again won’t make me listen. It’s dull… try being inventive. Offer me incentives… or am I barking up the wrong tree here? What if I’m not that god? I have sired no offspring, created no universes, I cannot walk through walls and I’ve never been killed at Easter. My birthday is in February. Perhaps I am not the god I think I am. Perhaps I am more than that. I might be a pantheon, a collection of willing entities, prepared to nurture and assist. Perhaps I have been rash in declaring war on you all. Has this deity bitten off more than we can chew? Never mind. It will all work out fine. I just need to focus, concentrate my energies and all will be well with the world. If I could just learn to heal – then you would believe me... and I might get rid of these cold sores.

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