Synapses

Dear Judas — A Prologue of Sorts

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Dear Judas,

I have given you a fake name. I hope you relish it. Judas, the betrayer. The one who kissed the divine and may as well have slipped a knife between the man’s ribs himself.

I have also given myself a fake name. Beatrice — the one Dante longed for, the one he went through all nine circles of hell to find. His guide through a divine rite of being.

I don’t pretend to think we are divine. No, I know now that we are nothing more than chaos.

So it is.

Demons walk the earth in human form every day. We are wrong to think there are monsters that exist beyond the veil of motion. No, this life is complicated enough without the powers of the supernatural.

I am still reeling from betrayals all around. I am still reeling from the notion of you, you, you.

I fear I will never get over you.

That is my perfect fabrication, I suppose, in everything it means.

I wander through dreams and find myself fascinated by these worlds I will never be able to contain. I want to stay in dreams forever. I never want to leave them.

You have made me this way, I fear.