Rant

Of the seven deadly sins, PRIDE is the one that is my very own. I’ve been told that it’s the root of all others. And I shall always wear this sin on my sleeve.

So, when pride takes a blow, it’s numbing and paralyzing. I find myself unable to move on. Yet, this pride is an animal inside me, all beaten and broken but still alive, still struggling to keep its spine ramrod straight. It is so easy to break me – I am not the wise grass that bends with the wind and bows to its awesome power. And I am broken. Crushed by the tremendous burden of this shame, my foolishness, my disgusting naiveté.

I must confess I am completely amoral. Yet I am shackled by a moral code that is more stringent than anything the society can devise.

Among other things, I believe that wanting to yield to carnal temptations is the most natural thing in the world – even when one is in a monogamous relationship. Forced monogamy, as practised by the society at large, by making divorce difficult and such assorted things, is absolute bull crap though it’s easy to see why it is necessary for the collective. On the other hand, I also believe that out of this utter nonsense that has been practised for ages there evolves something sublime and almost poetic, ridiculously so. And that is the genuine desire to give oneself completely to one person alone. No forcing, no contracts, no ratification by law, no bullshit.

Like I said, monogamy is unnatural and difficult. Has to be. Otherwise there’s no reason for all these sex hormones and oh-so-strong urges to procreate. Therefore, monogamy is the most beautiful gift one can give to a person one truly cares about. Complete, utter, blind trust, honesty, faithfulness. It is possible. It is possible.

Now, when some unlucky idjits like me do that, it inevitably backfires. Sub-humans who have not yet evolved to the level of understanding the concept do not deserve to be honoured so.

My muse has been envied. Rightly so. I would kill, steal, sell my soul for him. I would have. I was demanded that I blindly trust. I did. The more fool me.

My honest verses laugh at me. Each word, each syllable is shrill, mocking and unending. Like a pack of hyenas. I wear my shame and crouch in the corner.

I must bear this cross alone. I must lay down alone on the bathroom floor, moaning with silent pain. I can talk to no one, I must pretend normalcy when my heart threatens to stop.

The only way out of grief is through it. It’s a hell of a long walk.