oh, my parents
how do you feel?
as punishment for fulfilment of desires
you were given me.
creativity is unnatural and i wanna be desirable.
hipbones fused with skin, like some sort of chemical solution, it means danger. but i watch as the pale skin is captured by bone; such a beautiful thing. i admire the effort of my skeleton, i really do. all it wants is to be seen rather than covered by this disgusting flesh. the flesh which has molded and shaped the person i am today, and that alone is enough reason to loathe it.
maybe my brain is not the only part of me which thrives on self-destruction.
i scrutinize my skin, surveying the alabaster surface until i am met with a piece which is relatively untouched, begging for me to just cut, cut, cut at it. hurt it. destroy it. only now have i realised that my structure longs for the same thing; ribcage puncturing chest, collarbones override shoulders, cheekbones seeping through skin. do my bones want to be noticed? or do they want to destroy the very thing that they cannot live without? ultimately murdering me in the process.
they’re beautiful things, those bones, but they really ought to work faster.
“Once a month, I bleed and ache just so that I can hold your offspring. What is a women? A woman is a machine made for man’s pleasure. I am nothing else. I’m yours. So here I am, tie me up, abuse my body.”
“But you’re here to love. I love you and you love me. The man loves the women and vice versa: a real relationship. You’re not a machine. You’re as vit—”
“A relationship? I laugh in the face of the fool who invented the concept! How does a friendship differ from a ‘relationship’? Sex! A relationship is the term used to describe fucking somebody and not being judged for it because you belong to them. Pleasure the man and when he is ready, have a child.”
“You don’t love your friends like you love a partner, it’s different.”
“No, you’re completely correct. You don’t want to fuck your friends, your partner you do. I kiss my friends and I hug my friends, I physically display affection towards my friends. The next step up is sex, but that is for a relationship. It’s a simple equation: sex + affection = relationship, minus the sex and you have a friendship. Love is just sex. I’m sorry.”
“In which case you’re a hypocrite.”
“Correct.”
“So then what are we?”
“We ARE partners. I’m just selfish and I want to be pleasured. I will not tell you I love you because the meaning of the word differs between us, clearly. I’m with you because you’re a good fuck.”
“You’re using me!”
”Touché. But aren’t we all? As long as the chemistry is good, we’re all using one another.”
clumsily trying to restore the pieces of a vase that previously could bear it’s rose perfectly. alas, it is now fragmented across the floor. each piece growing further and further from it’s full form. it cannot be fixed, this vase, for it is too far gone. a piece of innocence, a piece of happiness, a piece of carelessness; they can be kept, but will never fit to create something of beauty. not any more. i have smashed this vase with the help of my old friends: maturity and responsibility.
sitting in a tub of water, fetal position adopted. water cleanses. cleanse my soul - cleanse my mind - cleanse me, water. take the final breath and, at long last, submersion. curled like a weak newborn, on the brink of drowning. as the water seeps into my nose, i raise my head, gasping for air. covered in this transparent, scentless liquid. i’m cleansed! the idea of my former self is disappearing, down the drain, being sucked down into endless mazes of pipes and drains. it is finally where it’s should be, my previous being, down in the sewer— amongst all of the other waste.
“YES SYNDROME”. ACCEPT EVERYTHING. SAY YES TO EVERYTHING. HELP EVERYONE. WHAT IS A ‘NO’? I CAN NEVER REFUSE. EAT - DRINK - SING - DANCE - FUCK. I’M… I FEEL… WEARY, TIRED. BUT I’LL STILL DO IT; I’LL DO ANYTHING, ALL BECAUSE YOU ASKED. ANYTHING YOU WANT.
DO IT. OBEY. BE A GOOD LITTLE TOY FOR YOUR MASTER. DO AS YOU’RE TOLD AND DON’T, REPEAT DON’T, ARGUE. AVOID ALL CONFRONTATION BECAUSE YOU’RE TOO WEAK TO HANDLE IT AND DEFEND YOURSELF. YOU’LL ONLY END UP WITH BROKEN BONES.
BUT WHY? YOU SAY YES AND YOU ARE A PUSHOVER, A SLUT, WHORE, ETC ETC. YOU SAY NO AND YOU POSSESS COURAGE. WHY SAY YES? PATRICK BATEMAN AS BIBLE- “Just… Say… No…”
I took Happiness by the hands. With desperation creeping over my features I asked her where she’d been all of my life.
Happiness stared at me, completely petrified, almost as though my interaction with her had spoiled her purity. She shook her hands from my own.
“You are most definitely damned”, she said. ‘False’, I thought. ‘Cruel words from a being who prides themselves on kindness.’
Happiness was kind. Happiness was beautiful. Happiness was perfection. She was everything I failed to be.
As I watched her, staring at me with disgust, a smile appeared upon my face. I realised that Happiness was afraid of me and I soon grew aware of the reasoning behind her coldness as well as my abnormal thoughts- I am Misery.
I am selfish and I am never content. I have hatred bottled inside of me, bursting at the veins. My sins are honest and I do not repent.
At this precise moment in time, Hell seemed like a beautiful place. I could’ve taken my own life right then and there just so I could be admitted into Hell, amongst the sinners and demons. But suddenly my thoughts of paradise were ruined. ‘I am misery’, I thought. I am misery. Hell’s gates would remain closed to me- misery doesn’t die. I am condemned to this land forever, sharing my unhappiness amongst these creatures that God named humans.
I made these realisations right before Happiness’ eyes. I grabbed her close to me.
“You and I are to remain here forever.”
“I’m aware.” she quipped. Her white hair fell over her face. Why was she happiness? She looked quite the opposite. I began to ponder why she was unnatural: she wasn’t even going to die, there was no option of a Heaven or a Hell. So why be happy? Why be mirthful at the notion of crawling around this earth restoring positivity? I didn’t ask her these things. I no longer wanted to associate with her. Although I did ask her one last question.
“Why did you tell me I was damned? I cannot go to Hell. Misery will be here forever.”
“You are eternally punished. You are forced to stay here forever. That’s certainly worse than anything Hell could offer.”
