There is no good way to bring anything to an end for any endeavor will always leave a gap, an emptiness, when it is concluded and put to rest. This journal is no exception. I noted before that I launched it in order to test the waters and that I had not found things entirely to my liking, but bringing this to an end is only somewhat related to that revelation. I did indeed desire to learn what reaction, if any, my existence might elicit and in that the results were almost universally encouraging; however, by its very nature this journal cannot provide me with a deeper understanding of what I could expect should I publicly proclaim my existence in a more direct fashion. The Internet is too fast-paced and far too ephemeral to provide me with the certainty I had sought. I believe I knew this going in, but as an incremental step it was most valuable.

What have I learned? Most cryptically I have learned that which I needed to learn. It has always been apparent to me that this little exercise had far more to do with me than with the outside world. The reflection upon my past, the episodes I chose to share, and perhaps more importantly those I have chosen not to share, all led me to a certain place within myself, an understanding that has likely always been there, but that I never once visited with any seriousness. Until now. I understand now that this chameleon’s life I have been living is a loser’s game. I always knew I was angry; that the need to pick up, let go and move on was the source of a bitterness that colored my relationships and robbed me of the happiness I felt I had a right to. This sometimes erupted in bouts of truly embarrassing self-pity, and sometimes in an almost pathological misanthropy.

To those readers who have found me an entertaining raconteur with perhaps a hidden softness inside I can only say that had I been less circumspect in the tales I chose to tell you may well have been disgusted, perhaps even horrified. Three and one half millennia afforded ample opportunity to fall in to monstrous depravity: my hands are stained with the blood of innocents.

That is not so easy to admit, here in this space. It has been my existence in this little digital arena that has led me to this. I have so many entertaining and informative tales to tell; glimpses in to lives past and cultures remembered only by graves and refuse. But I have found that the good tales are no longer so easy to tell. The weight of my sin grows heavier with each carefully crafted, carefully neutered tale I tell. The murder of Clayton was a glimpse of that darker portion of myself, but even that was chosen because it afforded me the cover of a somewhat moral act. I dealt out death because it felt good to do so, but perhaps he deserved it, so perhaps it was not so terrible a thing to do. I tried again, describing my eight-year murderous rampage through the streets of Ostia and Rome, but I seem incapable of finding the words to make the horror of what I was in those days clear. I lack the courage to face it squarely.

I am a moral coward.

All of this- this journal, my stories, and this confession: it all comes back to Jeremy. He understood me, both the good and the bad. In the end it was he who set me upon the path I walk today. After Clayton, after feeling the shame that act brought to my heart whenever I thought of Jeremy I came to believe I might be standing at the cusp, at the point of something momentous. The world had already plunged deep in to a whirlwind of change and I was caught up in it, blown upon the bitter storm. Just as Jeremy had predicted in those final days before he passed away. And in the end he betrayed me for my own good. I am still unsure as to whether to forgive him for that. Time will tell.

Now it all makes sense to me. I have now an understanding I had despaired of ever achieving. I know what I want to do. I know what I am going to do.

I am going home.

I am going to make my stand. Watch for me, those of you who are young enough. In thirty, or forty, or perhaps fifty years it will come out- the questions, the little tabloid stories, the speculations. Then some enterprising journalist will decide it is time to rip the top off the charade and will dig deep in to my past. I am looking forward to seeing the expression on his face when he comes to the inescapable conclusion.

Life should become terribly interesting at that point.

I remain faithfully yours,
Zsallia Marieko

One Response to “Partings”

  1. The following (mostly very sweet) comments are as they first appeared on the old BlogSpot/Haloscan system. —ZM

    But…but… you were my morning coffee read! This stinks!

    Well, while I’m dissapointed to see you go, I wish you the best of luck in your life’s journey.

    Thanks for the great blog, while it lasted!
    Allison | Email | Homepage | 12.09.03 – 6:49 am | #

    I’ll be watching.
    Then again, I seem to do a lot of that.
    Dishman | Email | Homepage | 12.09.03 – 9:58 am | #

    I’ll miss you. May the winds be always at your back.
    Slade | Email | Homepage | 12.09.03 – 11:54 am | #

    Well, I saw this coming, but that doesn’t make it any easier to see you go. Safe journeys.

    John | Email | Homepage | 12.09.03 – 12:12 pm | #

    A sad time indeed, but understandable.

    You will be missed.
    DCE | Email | Homepage | 12.09.03 – 2:02 pm | #

    Marieko, Marieko. Did your grandfather live over on 3rd Street in the old Town square? Baker or something?
    TheYeti | Email | Homepage | 12.09.03 – 12:53 pm | #

    I will miss you.

    Take care.
    Roy | Email | Homepage | 12.09.03 – 7:27 pm | #

    Safe journey to you. I think you have a gift, and hope you will continue to write. I’ll miss you.
    Debbye | Email | Homepage | 12.09.03 – 7:51 pm | #

    I am very sad to see you go, but even I know that nothing lasts forever. Blessings to you and may I live long enough to see your day of unveiling.
    etherian | Email | Homepage | 12.20.03 – 8:37 pm | #

    what is going on here? are u all a bunch of geeks with nothing better to do? or are u plotting to destry the world? this sounds like some fairytale, and it it is, i need to get back to realiy and turn on some music……….peace out…….
    smurf | Email | Homepage | 01.08.04 – 3:59 am | #

    Look I really hope you’re nostalgic enough to read this crap ’cause it would be good to hear from you. There’s a loneliness you might be able to ease.
    Loren | Email | Homepage | 01.25.04 – 2:09 pm | #

    And just one more thing; “In thirty, or forty, or perhaps fifty years it will come out- the questions, the little tabloid stories, the speculations.” hahaha You have a real “getting killed over and over again”-wish don’t you? They are not ready, not now, not ever – it’s not a question of education, it’s a question of human nature… They’ll find reason why they can’t stand you, and they’ll do exactly what they did in the past. You’ll be a female christ to them, and hey they need one but still, take it easy with the “coming out”-plans and consult us first. OK?
    Loren | Email | Homepage | 01.25.04 – 2:31 pm | #