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There I am. Deep into this… asylum. A few moments ago I was almost attacked by a patient who thought herself to be me. I can barely blame her, for this poor woman is ill. I feel pity for her. But … in a way, I also envy her.
I wish I was you, indeed.
Exchange the corset for a straitjacket.
They only keep your body bound
But my soul is tied by strong ropes.
Yes. My corset is also wrapped tightly around my body, but it’s mostly my soul that gets compromised. I – the stiff empress. Who may never show emotion, must always stand tall and straight. Can never let her head hang low. I am Empress Elisabeth – but, where has Sisi gone? How would it be, to swap positions with this eccentric woman? Would I finally feel free? I wouldn’t have to make these … meaningless decisions. This woman is held captive here, but in a way freer than will ever be. What is it, that she is thinking now? If I only could look inside her mind…
I have fought.
For years I’ve tried. I’ve tried to cut myself free from all the forces that bind me. From everything that keeps me under pressure. I’ve sworn to myself that I won’t give in without a fight. To win against the arch-duchess and everyone that has ever wanted to tame me. There wasn’t a single moment that has been easy for me but sometimes I ask myself: Does the struggle still merit a worth? What exactly is it, that I am fighting for?
And kept my will strong.
I have freed Rudolf out of the tight grasp the archduchess and that gruesome Count had over him. I kept pushing, yes, even lightened the fire that burned between my husband and me, forcing him to listen to my demands. Ridiculous, if one thinks about it. But – it worked. Now it is I who decides about the upbringing of my children. I don’t see them often, but at least I can decide, who will be the caregivers and scholars. I have a lot of other, more important tasks on my plate. It may seem heartless, seeing that I brought them into the world, my flesh and blood. And I love them, in a way. But nobody asked me if I even wanted to have children. It was expected of me. The single purpose of the empress is to give birth to the crown prince. Well, I have done my duty. I have played my part in the circling cogwheels of this dying monarchy. Why do they still try to hold me so tight?
And what have I accomplished? Nothing, nothing, nothing at all.
All this time I thought that they would leave me alone someday. That I can influence them toward that. But the strict court rules still claw at me, each day. Nothing that I wanted to do, that I did when I was young and free, seemed dutiful for an empress. Riding on a horse, dreaming, to have a mind of my own. Ha, it is naïve to still hope to do that again. Have I learned nothing?
Thus, the only solution would be madness.
And the only salvation would be the fall.
I’d have to fully embrace what my heart is telling me. Seeking the Sisi inside myself and freeing her. But this also means to turn mad. Sisi wouldn’t survive on the court. Her mind would play tricks and crumble like sand. Her fantasy would be poisoned until she would surpass the boundaries of reality itself.
The abyss is calling
I want to let myself
fall down
Why am I afraid of the leap?
Would my soul survive the fall? Would I be happy? Why is my fear of the consequences so grand? I am already on the verge of losing myself completely. To take this last, important step, am I too cowardly for that? I let myself be tormented instead of following my weeping soul and engaging with a fantasy world that lies within me. Where’s my salvation? In my dreams, I do the most curious activities. Things that would mark my demise if they were reality. I walk on my hands in the salon and ride on a horse through the many galleries of the court castle. They would confine me to this very asylum if I would do these things during my waking time. My dreams must stay dreams. Did I get too used to court life? To all the glam and luxury?
If I wasn’t destined
To be Elisabeth
I would be Titania
Yes, free and powerful like an elvish queen. No one could force me to bend to their will, no one could hold me and bind me. I would be prideful and strong, and wouldn’t have to act as if I possessed these qualities. In my dreams, I can be her.
And I would smile if they said
‘She is crazy.’
The people are already talking about me, as Empress Elisabeth. Every time I do something that the court of Vienna despises, they call me mad. But who are the mad ones? Doesn’t it lie in the nature of humanity to follow one's dreams? And therefore, would madness not rather be to act against this nature?
How much I wish I could be ignorant of their comments. Of their pitiful insults regarding my imagination. But I fear about my image. Yes, Elisabeth, they did it. They turned you into someone who cares about such vanity. They broke down your self-consciousness. Every time they laughed about you, a little bit more.
“He jests at scars, that never felt a wound.”
An old quote, but so true. What do they know about pain? About creatures like me, damned to walk along the edge of the abyss, mindful not to fall. They could wrap wires around my body and yet it wouldn’t bleed as much as my soul does.
I walk on the rope
Frozen by fear
Because when I look down, I see
nothing, nothing, nothing at all.
Even if I’d lose the balance, what good would that bring me? Down there nothing is waiting for me. There is barely anything left of my soul, nothing to flee to. My dreams were shattered, and my imagination dried out like ink on ancient paper.
I slowly move forward
Seeking my stance
Am always afraid of
Nothing, nothing, nothing at all.
So often I feel blind, not able to find something to hold on to. Yes, I am afraid to step forward. But at the same time, I fear falling into the nothingness, if I dare to stop. What option is better? I don’t know. I am sorry, Sisi, I can’t free you. My fear of falling too deep is preventing me.
To be honestly free
I’d probably need madness
But for madness
I’m not brave enough.
I’m scared, to be honest with myself. Too scared to step beneath the edge, to open my eyes. To succumb to madness. Succumbing to madness would also mean the wrinkling of my soul. I would not be able to escape the madness again. It would be more than temporary relief, more than my nightly dreams. Broken Elisabeth, Shattered Sisi. A girl made from shards I’d be, living in an asylum like this. I just can’t do it. I am still too entangled with what they call life. It is torture, yes, but it is something to rely on. Something steady in this dying world. There’s no one there who would hold me. I would be even more alone than I already am. Maybe it would be better. Maybe I’d have to pay the price to be free and untamed. I am dying each day a little bit more, but I can't stop it.
So, I act like the strong one
And do what I do
As if this life was more than
Illusion, Deception, Betrayal.
As if
nothing, nothing, nothing at all
were enough.
To be made of stone. To polish the image of myself so it will glance. To let them hold it up high, praise it. To always smile, even if my innermost self lies in a thousand broken pieces. To act as if I was happy. There’s nothing I could do to prevent that. To be hard on the outside, never escape the golden cage. A wild bird will fly against the metal bars until it dies. Even if they will never break, at least they will have tried. And with each injury, it will get weaker until one day, it will fly no more. It will lie on the bottom of the cage, bleeding out. It wouldn’t wait for someone to open the gate. It won’t sit there, tamed and accepting of its fate.
I want to at least paint the grey walls of my cell with colour when I can’t escape. This way I can dream and imagine my life to have some semblance of meaning. Act as if was anything other than illusion. I could act as if I had still some worth, as if Sisi were still inside myself, waiting. I must project the empress to the surface, make her into a shell, only a shell. No one can know who I am. They would try to destroy every bit of my soul. I am a wild bird, covered with the feathers of a tamed swan. All these thoughts are so confusing. Elisabeth, maybe you have already succumbed to madness and are not aware of it. Maybe this woman is right, and I am more her than she is me. I will never find out.