By Aye Ego, - the One, the Only, the primal of the Mad Ones.
When I walked across 6th Street everything seemed perfect, as good as it could be. But one second the wind's soft touch breezed past me and pleasured my skin and the next it came rinsing and roughly smothering my sensitive outside. What kind of sign could this be? That I knew not the answer to and it bothered me like rarely anything has before. It tormented me. But guilty it would not make me regardless of my prior behavior and crimes against the earthly and the feminine.
About a month earlier:
July 2nd
My friend is this not a happy time to be alive? We are the collision of all earthly possessions and the reasoning and masculinity of Man - or the Human. We are at the brink of Death yet at the well of the spring and the blossoming femininity of the Woman - or the Human. But this is the outside and only half of the truth. I am not blossoming nor reasoning. I am burning painfully while fighting the torment of depression inside. Oh, pray, my soul needs saving.
July 3rd
What truly is abstract is what you do not know.
the 4th
In the pine tree, only prisoners of an ever more unfair world grow to torment thee.
the 5th or 6th
What does a crying man possess? Regret? Unfaithfulness? Lack of motivation? Hopelessness? Anguish? Pain and misery? Sadness to cover the true joyfulness? No, No, No - I shout aloud.
the 7th
It, it... Fuck I do not have the courage...I hate the world...
the 8th
I have to confess. Father, I do sincerely have to confess. I am lost, but even worse - it hurts to say it - I am in love. I know what you will say: "how can a lost one be in love". I know. I do not deserve anything. I hate mys...
Oh, Amelie, I'm in love with her. It is not the manly desire, that is, a sexualized craving or sensual sensation, no, it is what I said it is. It is love. The blossoming flower. The earthly divine. The force of will. Laughter. Pleasure. And pain. Both the easy and the difficult. It is the truth. Yet, yet I can hardly grasp the situation conclusively. How did I come to love her? I wish I knew. But I may ask YOU: what is love? I have attempted on this task of definite impossibility, I gladly gift you this task, and for what it is worth, may it bring you eternal wisdom.
the 13th
She is brushing her beauty dark brown hair.
What did you ever do to deserve me?
This repetitive game isn't fair.
What did I ever do to lay alone here below the ash tree?
Oh, my tragedy is my luck, not because I'm lucky, but because all the luck I have left is drained in the pain and misery that this Love causes. You see, my torment is not having this wondrous and superstitious feeling, that is hastily explained as the inexplainable, alas, my torment is that I will never be with her. Guess I will have to love her discreetly and secretly. Or should I run?
the 14th
I am imagining her with Luke. Oh, I cannot stand it. Him touching her. Him kissing her soft lips. Him raising his hand to remind what happens if disobeying him. Him talking while she shivers with joy. Him reading to her and impressing her with his gift of real intellectual ability. Him dancing with her as she quivers in pleasure. Him watching her open her long divine legs wide. And him whatever follows. Luke is me, but just the me I wish I was.
the 15th
Oh, Luke is a soldier boy. He is a rebel and open to the difficulties and mishaps of the world. His is a mixture of passion and hate. Oh, I think he would be irresistible for young Amelie's heart. Luke is a fighter. Although he may fight for a lost cause or be in a state of hopelessness and madness. Yet I imagine Luke is all young Amelie wants. She must desire him. I wish I could be him.
the 25th
She teases and tempts me. I cannot stand it for much longer. I just belong to her. I know it. She must be mine. I would kill to be with her. Perhaps I could be Luke and then go on killing myself. Or perhaps I should kill Amelie and myself. Maybe heaven awaits us.
the 26th
I think she thinks she wants to be equal. You know all the egalitarian bullshit. Gender fucking equality. One does not equal two. So, how can two ever equal equality? In reality, she must be mine. She is mine. She must be. Not my possession and neither is she free. Nor is she equal. She is not my servant nor is she, my master. I am the master of my own Fate. How can I tame her, she is after all an untameable animal? But what am I then? Thus, plain it has been or has to be. She is not mine and I am not her. She is just a hopeless dream. A desire The Man can never satisfy with. A pain and misery he bears, even in the afterlife. The Man can barely breathe. The Man can barely speak. The man can barely think. The man can barely blink. Oh, hatred belongs to Me.
the 27th
I meant, I meant...what I meant was that she is so above me that I dreamed that she was not equal, which I will never be to her, because in reality, she is much more than me, more than I can receive, perceive and more than I will ever deserve. My eternal torment: I may touch her, but never will I have her. I may reach her to speak with her, but never will I receive the softness in her voice, and never will I confess to her. You see, I am just a man with no courage and dignity left to see. It is not beyond the sea. It simply does not exist. It seized to exist quite a long time ago. When the man stopped believing in himself. Anger took over him, that is, me. I questioned the world, all in vain. I started hating everything, but nothing more than myself. You see, I deserve nothing of any sort of Amelie or joyousness in life. A coward simply exists, he does not mean to exist nor does he joy to exist, he torments in existence. Essence is gone. Meanwhile, the pain remains.
the 28th
I hate her. She is actually quite dull and an angered little bitch. Evermore so that she is nothing (to me). I am a man, while she is just a little girl. Or maybe I am a boy while she is a baby. A crying baby. Hell, what is wrong with me? It must be those conservative events. Or was it those new libertarian lectures? No, no, no, I must love her. That is it. Can I love and hate in the same blink of an eye? Unmistakably I must know the answer to this. Perhaps she just derives from ambivalent energy. Pain!
the 29th
Alas! I have to regretfully inform you I have planned to lure her out. I will reveal ("to") her. She must know that she must be mine. I love her. I know this is perverse love at its core and masculine at its most ugly truth. I am impulsive. She is just pale. I am aggressive. She just gives in. I am me, she is just no one. Or is she? I cannot seem to decipher her. She is impossible to read. She hides in plain sight, yet I can never comprehend what she is, was, or will be. Does she even think of me? Has she even dreamed of me? Does she even desire? What do I have to do to please her? Do I give or tease? Do I hate or love? Do I ask or wait for an answer? Am I serious?!
the 30th
Hey! I will give her a chance. But I will not, never, make her outcome equal to mine. She must work. I will do whatever in my power to allow her to work. But if she desires to be equal, she must work. A soldier cannot fight the battle of a pussycat.
the 31st
"I have always thought misogyny to be both vulgar and stupid, and considered almost all the women I have known to be better than myself." But why can I not respect and love her at the same time? Why do I have to love and hate? Why do I have to respect and dislike?
She brings chaos to my life. But she also brings always hope of joy and a cheerful heartwarming feeling just when I get to see her. Although I do not dare to stare into her lovely, just purely lovely eyes. I just cannot.
August 3rd
I realized later on that she is just as fragile as I am, but how is that gonna help me?
the 8th
Goodbye me. Amelie, come to me.
the 9th
Amelie is my right hand. I am my left hand. Pain is in my head. And love springs from my heart in Hope that our Thoughts and paths in life would finally meet. Cheers to that :)
Dedicated to Amelie, love of my dreams, love of my hopes, love of probably my life, and my eternal torment and joy.
Yours truly,
Luke
Honestly, you are the truly Mad One. How do you dare to suppose that I would actually think like this? The thought that I would actually mean ill about the feminine, that is your Thought, it is the truly Mad One. Do you understand now the reality of the matter? Have I proved a point? After all, I am only as worthy or unworthy as you make me, to be. Your perception must be sharp! - or worse; falsely sharp.
"You are the Mad One!" –Aye Ego
Comments