Monday, January 20, 2014


I have made certain choices in my life and they have unequivocally been compromises. There is something irrevocable in our journeys through life, a predetermined finality. Could i have willed things differently perhaps i would be happier than i am now because it is undeniable that i am unhappy. But i am content with this compromise. Contentment presupposes an abrogation of free will and this predestined outcome is perhaps the only self realization that i can envisage. I can't revisit my past because it is too painful. I would, however, like to revisit certain mnemonics in the hope that any reader, familiar with my iconographic mythical status will put together these facsimiles into a coherent account.

Well i'd say it from the outset, they were ugly, hideously ugly. But their ugliness was, to me, a putative sheath that underlay the beauty within. Their fat lips pout sullenly, their huge bosoms jut out unprepossessingly, and imperceptible but lachrymose signs of puckering striate their pubescent things. Yet, to me, these signifiers of ugliness makes them doubly beautiful. I think of those thick lips straddling  my rosy ones with voluptuous langour. I think of the crenellations of those breasts becoming spaces for me to burrow into and nestle. I think of tracing with my forefinger those puckering streaks.

Though they hate me. They make me do menial work. Their undiscerned unawareness of my feelings is painful. However i work hard, i expend tremendous effort, i enslave myself hoping that shards of compassion would irradiate their intractably inimical countenances. My fingers flatten and my skin sloughs off in excrescences of fleshly unraveling. My forearms ache but still i continue indefatigably, hopeful.

The fairy godmother's boon leads me to the arms of a handsome prince. I don't feel desire though his tumescence demonstrates his ample need.The prospect of being discovered and eviscerated terrifies me though i hope that seeing me so adorned and opalescent would excite their wonder. At the stroke of midnight i flee.

The shoe fits me. This is my comepuppance. At last i have made them jealous, in whichever way possible. So i marry him though i don't live happily ever after. I have just borne a beautiful, blond ringleted girl and i love her unconditionally. When he fucks me i feel empty and nothingness assails me. To please him i inhabit a parallel fantasy life with them while i succumb to his practised arts with a simulacrum of passion. Sometimes i wonder if i could have asserted myself. Would my life be different? But i have chosen, despite my immanent propensities, a life of heterosexual materiality. The possibility of the unmet being actualized buttresses me but currently i embrace with fortitude what i have. Could i have had a choice otherwise ?

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