some days i think i'd feel better if i tried harder
most days i know it's not true.
~
how does anyone live on this fucking planet?:
i'm torn between hating every assertion that fucking doll makes about women and our role in this world, and recognizing that loneliness is brutal and feeling really sorry for whoever could be driven to purchase that thing.
whoever produces it, though, whoever makes money off of that shit, well, they'd better be the most miserable, self-loathing bastards on this planet.
~
every time i look at that sad, gaping mouth i feel like less than nothing. what if i could never speak, if i just walked around with my mouth open all the time, just an orifice waiting to be fucked? goddamn, is that what i'm supposed to be? it just looks so empty. she's just so...empty. and she's not even a fucking she because female genitalia is not just a fucking hole. it's a lot more complicated than that, it makes babies and it has a clitoris and isn't made of PLASTIC. shit.
it's just so depressing, to think about that thing shoved in a closet somewhere smeared with old semen pretending to be a person. same empty stare, same open mouth. those feet that would never be able to carry her anywhere, those hands that would never be able to open a jar or twist off a cap. knees that will never bend, arms that are perpetually bent. smooth, hairless, wrinkle-free plastic skin-substitute. it scares me to think about this fake-woman kept in a closet somewhere and brought out exclusively for sex, because what if she were real? because how can you see a fake-human face in your closet staring up at you with that sad open mouth and not be afraid of yourself, afraid of what you are capable of?
i guess we all have our issues.
~
how does anyone live on this fucking planet?:
i'm torn between hating every assertion that fucking doll makes about women and our role in this world, and recognizing that loneliness is brutal and feeling really sorry for whoever could be driven to purchase that thing.
whoever produces it, though, whoever makes money off of that shit, well, they'd better be the most miserable, self-loathing bastards on this planet.
~
every time i look at that sad, gaping mouth i feel like less than nothing. what if i could never speak, if i just walked around with my mouth open all the time, just an orifice waiting to be fucked? goddamn, is that what i'm supposed to be? it just looks so empty. she's just so...empty. and she's not even a fucking she because female genitalia is not just a fucking hole. it's a lot more complicated than that, it makes babies and it has a clitoris and isn't made of PLASTIC. shit.
it's just so depressing, to think about that thing shoved in a closet somewhere smeared with old semen pretending to be a person. same empty stare, same open mouth. those feet that would never be able to carry her anywhere, those hands that would never be able to open a jar or twist off a cap. knees that will never bend, arms that are perpetually bent. smooth, hairless, wrinkle-free plastic skin-substitute. it scares me to think about this fake-woman kept in a closet somewhere and brought out exclusively for sex, because what if she were real? because how can you see a fake-human face in your closet staring up at you with that sad open mouth and not be afraid of yourself, afraid of what you are capable of?
i guess we all have our issues.