A Three Jokers Orgin story. So there's been a lot of Joker in the news lately. Lots of debate about giving him an origin story. Should he have one? Should it be multiple choice? Should it be a mystery? Well I'm curious by nature. I love the origin s...
I sit all alone in my dark bat cave, staring at J's face on my computer screen. It brought me a vague comfort, yet I still felt consumed by darkness. What brings me to this darkness? The answer is simple. I can hide from everything here in the dark.
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I don't have to pretend that I want the Joker found and justice served. All the pain, the things left undone and unsaid between us, I can express it here. The solitude invites no one in to gawk at my mistakes. It makes it easier to keep going. Around people all I could do was shove everything inside and lock it away. But alone in the dark, I find a comfortable level of nonexistence, you know? I close my eyes and free fall into the darkness. I slip away. Oblivion. The place of unrequited peace. The somber feel of irrevocable darkness. But for me, no comfort can truly be found because I can't stop thinking about him.
I think it's my dreams that always force me to coming back here, desperately trying to disappear in the dark. They're haunted by skin that was like creamy smooth milk and velvet to the touch. Then I see his blue orbs that show me his soul, staring back at me from a computer screen. Those eyes consume me and I get lost in the feelings I knew I shouldn't possess, and all the words I can't say. But here in privacy, I can just fade into the darkness and hide from the dreams of him. I try to get rid of them but I never can. They possess my soul completely.
I just couldn't stop thinking about losing him. Tears pour from my eyes. I couldn't lose him, I loved him. I loved him even though I know I can never be with him. I still loved the moments, however brief they may have been, that I could hold him and pretend he was mine. Just for a moment. A second. Those little precious moments are like heroin to me. I needed them. I obsessed over them. I waited for those unrequited stolen moments that passed by us so fast. Oh how I lived for those perfect illusions, and I didn't know how to imagine my life without them.
I needed him. I needed more than a few privately shared moments here and there. They were always perfect and beautiful, but they never lasted. They were ritualistic. A habit. An addiction. I was tired of longing for him. It was torture. It hurt. It drained my soul. I wanted the constant ache in my heart to go away. I wanted that damn tumor to go away. I wanted him to have a long and happy life. Most of all, I wished we could share our lives with each other. Forever.
Being with him was like overdosing on antidepressants. It's like therapy. It's pure joy. He filled in all the holes in my tortured soul. Why wouldn't I want to do that as much as I could? Why wouldn't I repeat this over and over? I just needed him. He was programmed and hard wired into my brain. I can't imagine a life without being able to hold him in my arms. I needed his soft tender kisses. I couldn't live without that. I just couldn't.
I could already feel the loss of him and I couldn't breathe. What was my purpose if it wasn't trying to rehabilitate and save him? But this was one thing I couldn't save him from. I wished to God I could, even if it were only for my own completely selfish reasons. The greater good of Gotham didn't matter to me right now. All I wanted was as much time with him as I could get before the end came.
