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My White Sheet and Porcelain Clawfoot Tub, Baptized in the Blood of the Innocent. by Dionysus2xBorn, TheProjector
Fandoms: The Secret History - Donna Tartt
30 Oct 2025
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Summary
I've always seen too much, since childhood—plagued by visions, dreams drenched in beautiful decay that refuse not to haunt me well into the light of day, staining everything with their strange insistence. For what? I do not know. But they ask for meaning, which, try my utmost, I cannot seem to give. In their incessant asking, they have come to strip what color any of the rest of life held for me. I tried to quiet them, built my life from order—books and ritual. I thought if I could master discipline of the mind, the world would follow. But every act of control has only sharpened the dissonance. So, I am taking a page from Kafka: I will solve this problem by letting it devour me. The thing living beneath the surface of me—ancient and restless, hungry to dissolve the boundaries—waits for exactly this, for the seams to split. Only, unlike him, I do not fear it; rather, I welcome it. He endured the absurd. I dance with it. And if it succeeds in devouring me—better to be consumed by the teeth of truth than to spend a lifetime running. I want it to smile at me, to know it sees me smiling back. Whether they be revelation or ruin, I do not know—much less care. What I do know is that they lead me somewhere... I cannot refuse to go.