A Little Note from The Empire: "Meet Me on the Throne at Dawn"

Reader’s Note:

This piece is a direct response to the one I shared last week, The Bloody Narcissistic Truth. That was a piece written around approximately 2019.

After reading that old piece of mine, I found myself with a lot to process. So I sat down and wrote this from my present time perspective.

This is what came out.

---

"Meet Me on the Throne at Dawn"

What is this feeling?

My eyes are watering. My body...stuck. As if held by some forcefield.

This is what I feel as I read my own words from a dark, past self desperately trying to claw her way out from some sort of invisible prison I can't quite make sense of.

How can I save her? Throw her an anchor?

But she's too heavy for me to pull up. It's all still too heavy. I'm still too weak. I have to leave her there, but I can at least hear her calls. I know where she is. It's hard to look, it's so dark and so scary.

But I know where she'll be when I'm ready to save her.

And that feels like betraying her but I can't let her shame me.

Not like she keeps shaming herself.

I see it, in her words, between the lines, under the perfectly palatable sentences she curated even still in all that hell. It boggles my mind she manages to still do that.

I'm a lot more crass, unhinged. Had to turn in the fucks I gave for the pieces of myself back.

It's been quite healing for me.

But her?

She wants to be the best, still....for you, her precious reader.

She wants to being able to come back and tell a heroine's story. One where she moved gracefully through pain and imprisonment. Never losing her couth. Still holding her head high.

HA!

She'll stay in that pit forever 'til she drops that dead weight.

I can't save her. We're not even the same person. As long as she keeps letting all that bullshit cloud the way, I'll never be able to get her out of there.

She's going to have to save herself. The same way every version of me has had to save herself.

Ugh.

BELIEVE IN YOUR FUCKING SELF, GODDAMNIT!!!

You're fucking powerful! You're bigger than the hole he's got you in. WAKE THE FUCK UP!!

Wake up to yourSELF!

(sigh)

I don't think she can even hear me. Maybe I sound like a voice in the crowd to her. She's stuck in a haze. She doesn't even seem to realize he's using her own delusions against her.

They're hers. Little fantasies she made to make her feel good. Little dreams built on what she hoped a man could give her.

Little dreams to quiet the screams....the demons.

The hell inside.

She kept that part locked away.

The world couldn't bare it. She wouldn't want to burden them with it.

But she was ok beating herself down as the trauma dumping ground for the ugliest people who hid behind masks.

Even the masks weren't that convincing...

but she was.

So?

What the fuck are you going to do about it?

There's no need for me to pity you when I know your fucking power.

I love you. Wake. The fuck. Up!

You know, I remember her feeling like she couldn't reach me, like I had abandoned her. I hate that the only thing standing between me & her is this dark fantasy he's cast upon her.

What a fucking joke?

He never had any fucking power. It's all been hers. He sucked her dry, and she fucking let him. She expected more. She expected something in return. I can't blame her for that. She deserved to have that.

But, now... what have we learned? We'll never do that again will we?

None of it was worth the annihilation. I'd like to keep most of me intact for the rest of the journey okay?

Deep, fucking breaths.

It's all going to be okay, okay?

The second you just stand up, and remember yourself.

You didn't forget yourself. You just replaced you...with him. His bullshit little puff of smoke in his magic show.

( Fucking clown.)

Get up. You got this. Don't make me start singing the song. This isn't a fucking musical. And you don't need any fairy dust, sugar-coatings. You need the fucking Truth.

Wake. the fuck. up.

I'm fucking proud of you, you know that?

You're so much more than this little magical prison he's keeping you in... you're keeping you in.

"A prison of your own making"... remember?

You used to teach about that. Maybe you missed that lesson.

"The prison gates are open"... remember?

The prison walls are built by the story you keep telling yourself—about yourself.

Do you want this to be your truth?

It's just a matter of choosing.

Do you want to suffer or do you want to remember?

You can't do both.

The choice is yours.

I'll be here... waiting.

Meet me on the Throne at dawn.

...

I think she heard me this time.

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