Oh, ladies and gentlemen: do not be fooled. Do not become a victim of common fallacies, or the lies I push you to believe. I am a master, and I play the actress part. Become more than what I encourage you to know- in moments, I will be gone, leaving not even a memory.

There still exist the mornings that I awaken, still in the arms of sleep, still in a place where we hold no fears. In those drowsy seconds where I am only a product of thoughts and curiousity, the light filtering in through the window hurts my eyes. I feel confused, questioning where I am. A white blinding seems to be the only thing I can see.

And when I lift up my head, tilt my face to what feels like something in the room, I'm surprised. An appiration- but not like the ones triasping through my imagination. My Lioness comes once more, wholly physical, for once. She looks as though she is only waiting to collapse, waiting only for the death which she deserves.

"Did you think I wasn't watching?" she asks me, with a sardonic tone. I know where this is going, because I've led it far too many times. What have I become? No longer trapped in the confusion of slumber, I am only a child- avoidant and ashamed. I'm trying to not let this get out of hand. I tell her, "No. I've been behaving. Really. It's okay to be like this, to be healthy. Sometimes we have to do good things for good people in our lives..." She won't hear it.

The roar begins, the battle resumes. It's been a while, I think. I feel myself being dragged under, wincing from the blows that land. Her complete bag of bones is sharp, and it is futile to escape. Useless to think things have changed.

"WHO DO YOU THINK YOU CAN BE, WITHOUT ME?!" she quizzes me, as I hit the wall. Who do I think indeed. We've been through this and I should know better than to try and GET better. Muttering, I hear her say "Ignorant, stupid bitch. You're no better than the rest of them, less even. Those pleasures of life do NOT belong to you. You are the martyr. You are the victim- never the saint."

I'm busted and bleeding, broken and pleading. I've been in this postion several times before, though she's never returned with such a vengence and hatred. My body is slumped, and I've no will to try and get up. I remember the lighting storm recently: I decided I wanted the last thing I saw before I died to be lightning. What a beautiful thing to be given before it was all taken.

She knows this. Ah, the omnisecent Lioness. And like all else, she will take it away.

"Lightning? Something so pure, so beautiful isn't deserved by you. Goodness and blinding light? No. You won't be allowed it. Not even love will do." She promises.

I feel it fade, feel the happiness be taken away. And as she promised, there are no lightning storms to accompany me as I take my leave.