Sharing the same hell with me

You’ve tried this fifty thousand times already. It never works. The Backspace key is your only shield. I is so close that your soul is too scared to rise to the surface. He is so distant that your soul wants to run away. That’s why you write instead of them all. It’s your life after all. You is just what you need. Rest your head on the clock, force your breathing to slow down, get lost in the dilated rhythm and hear time — dense — flow around you.

You’re staring at him again. Your thoughts are focused, but not your eyes. It’s simple. You envy him for being so handsome and good-looking. He envies you for having a 95% GPA. You envy him for being solid and brawny. He envies you back for having the fingers of a piano player. You envy him for being able to walk up to anybody. He envies your sexy shyness. And so it goes on and on, each layer more blind than the one beneath it.

Ripples of silent hate propagate through your life, bouncing off the perfectly smooth surfaces of your ignorance. No, males are never able to work together. Cooperation is for women. Men are competitive. Remember that online quiz you’ve taken, the one that found you 53% female and only 47% male? Have you decided what you want to be yet? Or do you trust the mirror?

You don’t trust the mirror. The aluminium believes it can reflect your soul. How arrogant! You don’t trust your hands. They can give you pleasure, and anything that can give pleasure can deceive. You don’t even trust your thoughts anymore! Crazy people believe everyone else is mad.

Why are you putting yourself in their place all the time? Why are there eleven unfinished books on your desktop? You hurt, therefore you are. Why are you unable to let the tears flow? Are you dead? You haven’t cried for years.

(what follows is no longer part of the story)

This doesn’t make much sense yet, but I’m posting it anyway because I don’t want more than three days to pass between the first word and the final one. Ideas have an expiration date, you know. Polish too much and it turns into something else.

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