Nothing is Impossible (LJ Idol Home Game)
Of course, related to the last two entries. As I write more, I'm going to tag them all 'cannibal story' as opposed to linking backwards.
My real name will always come to one idea. I've already heard it when the news rehashes the anniversary of my disappearance.
"You hear about that girl who ate her parents? FBI said there was a new lead last week, and then it turns out there's just a pack of dogs who attacked some jogger."
The girl who ate her parents.
That is the legacy of my real name. One of the reasons I left it was it limited my chances to become something more.
I doubt that I will change the reputation of that name, because it is what I did. I ate my parents (partially,) I ate two of my classmates (again, partially,) and who knows what that girl is up to know, and every partially eaten body that appears until I am found will be laid at her/my feet.
I hope, that when my truth is revealed, I can at least alter the perception of her name. Yes, I ate part of those bodies, but no one ever seems to ask why. (The television shrinks talk about the psychology of cannibalism and the instinct to eat human flesh and try to use what they know of her to fit the neat profile they already have. It's easier to understand a monster when it fits into a tidy box tied up with it's shiny bow. It's easier to dispel the shadows when someone else is holding the light.)
Except they haven't found any other bodies that are really hers. Soon enough, they will have to explain why a vicious cannibal has only eaten parts of four people, or her cunning skill will gain a curious uptick on the next Dateline special.
I am a cannibal, I have eaten human flesh. But the first two I killed were for a curious revenge, an experiment to see if my future companion would work as I thought. The experiment failed.
They have yet to discover the three I killed in college. Only one was eaten, another experiment to see if my college boyfriend fit my needs. He did not. The other two were him and a friend, tragically lost in a horrific car accident. Of course, I went to college under my new name, so I suppose it would be hard to connect.
My parents? My parents I ate to take them with me into my new life. Their blood was already a part of me, but to mark the passing of their daughter, and the birth of my self, I needed to have some finality. And as my sister was not of their flesh, I had to make her part of the family.
I will redefine her-the girl who ate her parents-despite the tell-all book, and the endless repetitions of her false profile. I will expand their limited view, one day. It may be when I pass the legacy of myself to my sister. (I suspect if I educate her right, she will eliminate me as a threat. If she does, I hope she at least honors my wish to send my thoughts to the public before disappearing.) It may be when I'm an old woman, too tired to wield the scalpel anymore.
Either way, that girl will become much more than that. No matter how many times the experts say someone like her will always revert to pattern, that her behavior can be predicted, and that's what will be her undoing.
Never tell me what I can do.
I'm the girl who ate her parents.
I can do anything.
My real name will always come to one idea. I've already heard it when the news rehashes the anniversary of my disappearance.
"You hear about that girl who ate her parents? FBI said there was a new lead last week, and then it turns out there's just a pack of dogs who attacked some jogger."
The girl who ate her parents.
That is the legacy of my real name. One of the reasons I left it was it limited my chances to become something more.
I doubt that I will change the reputation of that name, because it is what I did. I ate my parents (partially,) I ate two of my classmates (again, partially,) and who knows what that girl is up to know, and every partially eaten body that appears until I am found will be laid at her/my feet.
I hope, that when my truth is revealed, I can at least alter the perception of her name. Yes, I ate part of those bodies, but no one ever seems to ask why. (The television shrinks talk about the psychology of cannibalism and the instinct to eat human flesh and try to use what they know of her to fit the neat profile they already have. It's easier to understand a monster when it fits into a tidy box tied up with it's shiny bow. It's easier to dispel the shadows when someone else is holding the light.)
Except they haven't found any other bodies that are really hers. Soon enough, they will have to explain why a vicious cannibal has only eaten parts of four people, or her cunning skill will gain a curious uptick on the next Dateline special.
I am a cannibal, I have eaten human flesh. But the first two I killed were for a curious revenge, an experiment to see if my future companion would work as I thought. The experiment failed.
They have yet to discover the three I killed in college. Only one was eaten, another experiment to see if my college boyfriend fit my needs. He did not. The other two were him and a friend, tragically lost in a horrific car accident. Of course, I went to college under my new name, so I suppose it would be hard to connect.
My parents? My parents I ate to take them with me into my new life. Their blood was already a part of me, but to mark the passing of their daughter, and the birth of my self, I needed to have some finality. And as my sister was not of their flesh, I had to make her part of the family.
I will redefine her-the girl who ate her parents-despite the tell-all book, and the endless repetitions of her false profile. I will expand their limited view, one day. It may be when I pass the legacy of myself to my sister. (I suspect if I educate her right, she will eliminate me as a threat. If she does, I hope she at least honors my wish to send my thoughts to the public before disappearing.) It may be when I'm an old woman, too tired to wield the scalpel anymore.
Either way, that girl will become much more than that. No matter how many times the experts say someone like her will always revert to pattern, that her behavior can be predicted, and that's what will be her undoing.
Never tell me what I can do.
I'm the girl who ate her parents.
I can do anything.