This is Vespair's story, at the apex, at the zenith, as a magnum opus. This is her story--and mine.
I'm holding off on publishing Black Waltz for now, for a few reasons.
Chauvnistic Coquette more than likely won't see the light of day until next year for still more reasons.
Anathema is the culmination of everything I am and everything I strive to be. It's quintessential. It's the piece of work for me. I expect it will take a long time to finish.
I can't have any distractions, any friendships, any relationships beyond what's on the page and in my head. I need to be completely alone. Every time I disappeared from some place or some one, it was in anticipation of this. No explanations, no goodbyes; I even had situations where I purposely made the other person want to leave with truths about me that I knew they wouldn't accept: all so predictable.
Maybe you don't understand. Maybe you're one of those people, wondering why I would be so calculating. Maybe you're confused, or angry at me. That's how it has to be.
I want and need to be completely alone while I write this. It could take months; it could take years. All I know is that I want the routine of feeling this sharp focus, unhindered.
There was a point to all the confusion, all the pain, all the fleeting joy and all the things I thought I could never understand. Finally, I found it, to put it here and shape it as it needs to be.
No one is allowed to get in the way of this shaping. No one except the shape herself, as she wishes, shaped like all those instances I thought were sabotage or subterfuge.
It was simply meant to be. I understand and accept that now, finally.