King of Cups Reversed

King Of Cups - Reversed

The King Of Cups sat on the beach and gazed out to the ocean. He
imagined he could see the Island of the Empress in the distance. There
was a sad, faraway look in his eyes as he conjured up the purple
mountain. The King read her message carefully. He began to compose his
answer. His carriage would wait...

My sweet Empress,

I also do not like labels. Not because they define a person, only
because they are not necessary. I cannot be specific to you - my
position does not allow it, but if I speak of myself, you can perhaps
draw some parallels. Perhaps not.

I have been in damaging relationships throughout my adult life. Never
for such a long period, but for long enough. I only recently realised
that the reason I threw my soul into them was because I wanted deep
inside for my relationship to match my perception of who I was - wild,
dangerous, not like the others... Unique. Forgive my candour, but it
was nonsense. I damaged myself and the women (who were as damaged as I)
for no reason other than I was scared that I may be normal. I was so
desperate to be the tortured genius, waiting for my great destiny to
unfold... it's all nonsense.

I lost so many years to alcohol, illicit substances, parties,
travelling and ill-judged sexual liaisons that I was blind to all the
women who could have actually made me happy. I got myself dismissed
from all the posts I enjoyed and was good at. I have some talent
creatively, but as soon as I reached a level of competence that
demanded I take it further, I gave up.

Why? Not for all the stupid reasons that I created for myself - the
post was stifling me... I am a better writer than artist... I am aware
this relationship is damaging but we are soulmates - you know the
reasons (excuses) one gives oneself.

Not for any of these reasons... just this one...

I WAS SO SCARED OF MEDIOCRITY. Oh hell, I AM so scared of mediocrity.
And the suicide attempts? Easy. One grand gesture, the people mourn, I
do not have to fail in the long run.
I have accepted so much that was unacceptable (and caused it) because I
have fooled myself into thinking it's my destiny to... (you may insert
your own disaster here - lose that position, be with this person,
whatever it may be.)

The tragedy is that as I sit here I still want that danger and romantic
excitement. I want to be Byron. I want to be Shelley. I want to take
laudanum and compose horrific tales of the sublime whilst taking demure
partners and convincing them to do things they thought they would never
agree to. I want to subvert, endanger and outrage. I want everyone to
come around to my philosophies and see things my way - then laugh and
tell them I was playing with them. I want to show them how stupid they
are, and how clever I am.

But I do not. Not really. When you attended the Ball and I saw your
cleavage, (again I ask your forgiveness for my disrespectful language,)
my instinctive reaction was of a sexual nature. I looked again, and do
you know what I saw this time? I saw my head gently resting there,
being soothed to a peaceful sleep. The sleep of a child.

That is what I want. Someone and something normal. The rest is all
nonsense. I have created this monster because I do not believe that I
deserve what everyone else has. My family let me down - call it an
unnatural environment or bad blood, but I never recovered from that.
All my failed relationships stem from an absent King and abusive
Queen... or do they?

They do not.

I am intellectually able. I know who and what I am. I know when a
relationship is at an end. I know when to meet a royal deadline. I know
how to share emotionally. I know how to support and nurture. But I do
not do any of these things, at least, not after a short initial period.
I am already planning how to foul up these things so I can be Byron
again and dress like a Turk for my portrait. And just because I do not
consciously think these things... well, I do not offer this as an
excuse. As I have said, I am intellectually able. I have undergone
enough self analysis to know how to change. But I will not. I
absolutely will not.

This is why I will never condemn my closest friend for trying to help.
I am playing with him as much as with anyone else.

May God forgive me.

So what should I do? Do I accept there may be a physical/biological
element to my behaviour? It is possible. So do I see a physician?
No.

Do I continue as the tortured artist, hating the world because it does
not recognise my greatness? Yes.

My madness is the one thing that sets me apart from others. It is the
one thing that keeps the wolf of normality from blowing down my house.
And I only use the best building materials - silence, obstinance, an
emotional distance...

I desire all the things that my people have - family, home... and I
know how I could have them. But I will not get them... because I do not
want them enough to give up my creation. This suit of armour I have
made for myself is much too comfortable.

What I have done recently is cease making excuses for my failure. It is
my responsibility. Do not call it fate, karma, kismet. Address it by
its real name - cowardice. It is time I grew up and became a man. But I
will not. I will continue my search for the heat, fuel and oxygen to
build the fire of self-destruction and self-disgust that keeps me warm
at night.

Look at us... we are both aware how deadly we would be together, but we
are already reaching out to each other. We are lead life
jackets...

He heard the call of a courtier.

The king of cups looked out over the ocean. And the Empress had been
correct. He was sad. And purple was his favourite colour.

(Dedicated to my Muse. Sat there on a mythical island in the shadow of
the purple mountain.)