Monday, January 20, 2014


Her heart beat with maternal possessiveness. The two girls were incontrovertibly ugly and foiled any life design she might have had for them. As they grew up and their disagreeable lineaments dispersed grotesquely around their physiognomies her sense of frustration intensified. Their future worried her. She also wanted to keep these two close to her, never having to be cleft. They were extensions of her, distillations of her singular pride in bearing them. The thought of extricating them from her was inconceivable. A primal energy cleaved them to her. So she coexisted with two contradictory imperatives, that of seeking  for them a future separate from her or of keeping them within her skin.

Eventually, as her fear of loneliness and old age compounded with imminent ageing she preferred to keep them close by. Her ingenious idea was to make them love each other as two women in a world where their ugliness would render them heterosexually  unacceptable. This incestuous commingling pleased her immensely. She saw the girls are mirrors refracting from her into twin sets of reduplicating and dialectical images which would reflect each other and ultimately reflexively validate her own gaze which was both erotic and parental.

But the two hated each other. And she hated cinderella whose inescapable beauty was a sore reminder of the lack in their  own life. By making cinderella the fulcrum of their loathing she strove to bring them closer. She could see, with helpless resignation that while that hatred did unite them in so far as their loathing manifested in inundating cinderella with horrid tasks their actual feeling was self loathing. Each hated herself and projected it on the other to prevent self annihilation.

She took them to the ball and they both fell for the prince and yet the prince was pirouetting and pealing forth carillons of joy with this beautiful woman whose beauty was a counterpoint to her daughters unlikeable accoutrements.

Well the shoe has fit cinderella and off she has gone with the prince and again she is buffeted by a variegation of different emotions. She feels angry at the opportunity denied her girls. She feels glad that the luminiscent cinderella was out of their lives. She was glad that things had reverted to a desirable state outwardly. The girls, however squabbled ceaselessly and interminably and it seemed that missed chances would make inevitable and crystallize intransigently both their self hatred which they transmuted to each other. So though things were different  they were no different. 

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