And Counting. Original.
Summary: Written in stream-of-consciousness, experiment with surrealness. How much longer until I die? I think that I'll count...
And Counting.
It's funny really. That I'm thinking this I mean. There's nothing funny about what happened. Or at least, there shouldn't be.
That doesn't stop me from laughing every time that I think of it.
Not hysterical laughter, or uneasy laughter. Triumphant I suppose would be a good way of describing it. Perhaps even gloating, though I dislike that word. It makes me think of goats, and horns, and cuckolds. The not-so-logical progression of my thoughts you see, leading me in ever-tightening circles.
Spiral into insanity is the phrase that I believe they use. Lovely phrase. I approve of it whole-heartedly. Inaccurate as the old perception that the sun circled the earth, but just as lovely. Egotists always think that anything that focuses on them is lovely. And after all, what is the human race but a species of egotists?
"Oh, I can't adapt like other species, I'm too special, so I'll just chang the world to suit me and make it unfit for the millions of other species in the world!"
I'd like to meet the genuis who had that brainwave. Not that I will of course. Thirty minutes and counting. Don't name your chickens before they hatch because then you'd feel bad about eating them for breakfast. I don't like eggs. I supopose they'll say that had something to do with, they always do. They'll claim that I wanted children, or that I was acting out an Electra complex, or (good ole Freud, the most acclaimed liar on earth) that it was simply penis-envy. Like I'd ever want one of those.
Maybe I shouldn't have castrated him. That might have been going a little overboard. But then again, if I hadn't castrated him, how could I have stuck his cock in his mouth? Well, I could always have broken his spine I suppose, but that would have required such an effort on my part...
No. I made the right choice. I don't think that I ever found him as attractive as I did when he was dead. I ought to have taken a photo and looked at it whenever I felt insecure. Not that I have enough time left to worry about being insecure now. Twenty minutes and counting.
Oh well. Well, well, well... I could make a bad pun here but I won't. No point accumulating more negative karma than I have to. Wonder how long it'll take me to work off the anti-karma that I have already? Probably a few dozen lifetimes. Wonder how long it took Hitler to make up for what he did? He's probably still making up for it. Maybe it was him I killed. Well, not him, but a reincarnation of him. Would that make it okay?
Legally, are you allowed to kill someone if they've killed other people? The answer is no, it has to be self-defense. Whoever made that law wasn't really thinking about women since it's very hard to kill someone when they're beating the shit out of you. Not hard to want to, but physically impossible. If they're strong enough to hurt you, you aren't strong enough to beat them in a fair fight. That's why being unfair works. Well, it kills them anyway. It doesn't stop you from suffering the consequences. Fifteen minutes and counting.
I've never really liked chocolate. It's just another type of vegatable in the end. Like broccoli, and who likes broccoli? I certainly don't. Then again, what do I like? Spinach? No, I don't like spinach. His eyes were green like spinach. Green eyes are pretty, prettier than gray. I'd hate to have gray hair. At least that's one thing that I won't have to worry about. Thirteen minutes and counting. I'm not the type to worry anyway. Always been happy-go-lucky. Well, not quite, but it seems a pretty idea so I'll pretend that's what I'm like.
Mhm. I hope he realized that I had been pretending. It would be a shame if he had died not knowing the depths of my 'perfidy', for the want of a better word. Interesting, even now I want things. Words. Pretty words. Pretty words for a pretty girl who did an ugly thing. It wasn't as ugly as the person whom she did it to of course. He was ugly inside, and pretty outside, but she saw right through him. He was invisible to her, so she did not realize it was him who was hurting her.
...I shouldn't talk in the third person. People might think I'm crazy. Crazy is when people don't think like other people. All the great people of history were crazy then, Einstein, Gallileo, Newton - they went against the doctrines of their times so they were crazy. Did you know that Plato was a homosexual? The irony of supposedly platonic love is delicious. Tastes like blood. I didn't drink his blood of course. That would be cliche, and I'd rather not be cliche. Not that anyone will care, except the tabloids. They'd prefer if I had I suppose, since it would make the story more dramatic. They'll probably say that I did, since what I did isn't really so different from what other women do. I just did it more intensely.
Intensity isn't always a good thing of course. Would you prefer to suffer intense pain or mild pain? I'd prefer not to suffer at all. Not that I got a choice of course. Of course not. How can you trust me with a choice if you can't trust me with a child? Six minutes and counting. Perhaps I ought to shout out a slogan, but I can't think of anything appropriate. I'm not even so sure I'm thinking, to tell the truth. I think that I'm watching the thoughts flow through my head and wonder where they're coming from. I wonder where the electricity comes from? I wonder if it's the same electricity supplied to women to iron their clothes, to cook their meals, warm the houses and keep the rooms alight. Alight makes it sound as if the rooms are burning. I burnt my house, and my bridges along with it.
I wasn't trying to get of the body. That's what they'll tell you I was trying to do, but they're lying. I don't lie. That's why I'm here. I answered their questions truthfully.The truth doesn't set you free. They lied when they said that. Just like they lied when they said that work would make you free - Arbeit Macht Frei. And in the land of the blind men, the one-eyed man shall be king. Think that's another lie? Could be. They might call him crazy for pretending to see things that they can't. Just like people who claim to see auras are always considered crazy. I could never do that. I never tried though. Perhaps I could? Too late now. Two minutes and counting.
It's hard to know what to think of next. I'd to be able to have some grand thought now, some enlightment that has eluded humankind for centuries. Not that it would do humankind much good if I did of course. Hm. People complain about women going overboard when women claim that the word 'mankind' excludes them, but I wonder how included men would feel if the word was 'womankind'? Does that count as a grand enlightment? Probably not, but then again, who gets to judge my thoughts except my self? That's as close as I'll come to it, so it'll do.
Ten seconds and counting. Here goes then. Nothing left to do, or say, or think. No, I can still think, and I'll think of him. I'll think of how he writhed as I disemboweled him, and how I shut him up the way that he used to silence me. Yes, that's what I'll think of.
Oh, they want to know if I have any last words? Yes. Yes I do.
"It was worth it, and I would do it all over again."
One second and counti-
End
And Counting.
It's funny really. That I'm thinking this I mean. There's nothing funny about what happened. Or at least, there shouldn't be.
That doesn't stop me from laughing every time that I think of it.
Not hysterical laughter, or uneasy laughter. Triumphant I suppose would be a good way of describing it. Perhaps even gloating, though I dislike that word. It makes me think of goats, and horns, and cuckolds. The not-so-logical progression of my thoughts you see, leading me in ever-tightening circles.
Spiral into insanity is the phrase that I believe they use. Lovely phrase. I approve of it whole-heartedly. Inaccurate as the old perception that the sun circled the earth, but just as lovely. Egotists always think that anything that focuses on them is lovely. And after all, what is the human race but a species of egotists?
"Oh, I can't adapt like other species, I'm too special, so I'll just chang the world to suit me and make it unfit for the millions of other species in the world!"
I'd like to meet the genuis who had that brainwave. Not that I will of course. Thirty minutes and counting. Don't name your chickens before they hatch because then you'd feel bad about eating them for breakfast. I don't like eggs. I supopose they'll say that had something to do with, they always do. They'll claim that I wanted children, or that I was acting out an Electra complex, or (good ole Freud, the most acclaimed liar on earth) that it was simply penis-envy. Like I'd ever want one of those.
Maybe I shouldn't have castrated him. That might have been going a little overboard. But then again, if I hadn't castrated him, how could I have stuck his cock in his mouth? Well, I could always have broken his spine I suppose, but that would have required such an effort on my part...
No. I made the right choice. I don't think that I ever found him as attractive as I did when he was dead. I ought to have taken a photo and looked at it whenever I felt insecure. Not that I have enough time left to worry about being insecure now. Twenty minutes and counting.
Oh well. Well, well, well... I could make a bad pun here but I won't. No point accumulating more negative karma than I have to. Wonder how long it'll take me to work off the anti-karma that I have already? Probably a few dozen lifetimes. Wonder how long it took Hitler to make up for what he did? He's probably still making up for it. Maybe it was him I killed. Well, not him, but a reincarnation of him. Would that make it okay?
Legally, are you allowed to kill someone if they've killed other people? The answer is no, it has to be self-defense. Whoever made that law wasn't really thinking about women since it's very hard to kill someone when they're beating the shit out of you. Not hard to want to, but physically impossible. If they're strong enough to hurt you, you aren't strong enough to beat them in a fair fight. That's why being unfair works. Well, it kills them anyway. It doesn't stop you from suffering the consequences. Fifteen minutes and counting.
I've never really liked chocolate. It's just another type of vegatable in the end. Like broccoli, and who likes broccoli? I certainly don't. Then again, what do I like? Spinach? No, I don't like spinach. His eyes were green like spinach. Green eyes are pretty, prettier than gray. I'd hate to have gray hair. At least that's one thing that I won't have to worry about. Thirteen minutes and counting. I'm not the type to worry anyway. Always been happy-go-lucky. Well, not quite, but it seems a pretty idea so I'll pretend that's what I'm like.
Mhm. I hope he realized that I had been pretending. It would be a shame if he had died not knowing the depths of my 'perfidy', for the want of a better word. Interesting, even now I want things. Words. Pretty words. Pretty words for a pretty girl who did an ugly thing. It wasn't as ugly as the person whom she did it to of course. He was ugly inside, and pretty outside, but she saw right through him. He was invisible to her, so she did not realize it was him who was hurting her.
...I shouldn't talk in the third person. People might think I'm crazy. Crazy is when people don't think like other people. All the great people of history were crazy then, Einstein, Gallileo, Newton - they went against the doctrines of their times so they were crazy. Did you know that Plato was a homosexual? The irony of supposedly platonic love is delicious. Tastes like blood. I didn't drink his blood of course. That would be cliche, and I'd rather not be cliche. Not that anyone will care, except the tabloids. They'd prefer if I had I suppose, since it would make the story more dramatic. They'll probably say that I did, since what I did isn't really so different from what other women do. I just did it more intensely.
Intensity isn't always a good thing of course. Would you prefer to suffer intense pain or mild pain? I'd prefer not to suffer at all. Not that I got a choice of course. Of course not. How can you trust me with a choice if you can't trust me with a child? Six minutes and counting. Perhaps I ought to shout out a slogan, but I can't think of anything appropriate. I'm not even so sure I'm thinking, to tell the truth. I think that I'm watching the thoughts flow through my head and wonder where they're coming from. I wonder where the electricity comes from? I wonder if it's the same electricity supplied to women to iron their clothes, to cook their meals, warm the houses and keep the rooms alight. Alight makes it sound as if the rooms are burning. I burnt my house, and my bridges along with it.
I wasn't trying to get of the body. That's what they'll tell you I was trying to do, but they're lying. I don't lie. That's why I'm here. I answered their questions truthfully.The truth doesn't set you free. They lied when they said that. Just like they lied when they said that work would make you free - Arbeit Macht Frei. And in the land of the blind men, the one-eyed man shall be king. Think that's another lie? Could be. They might call him crazy for pretending to see things that they can't. Just like people who claim to see auras are always considered crazy. I could never do that. I never tried though. Perhaps I could? Too late now. Two minutes and counting.
It's hard to know what to think of next. I'd to be able to have some grand thought now, some enlightment that has eluded humankind for centuries. Not that it would do humankind much good if I did of course. Hm. People complain about women going overboard when women claim that the word 'mankind' excludes them, but I wonder how included men would feel if the word was 'womankind'? Does that count as a grand enlightment? Probably not, but then again, who gets to judge my thoughts except my self? That's as close as I'll come to it, so it'll do.
Ten seconds and counting. Here goes then. Nothing left to do, or say, or think. No, I can still think, and I'll think of him. I'll think of how he writhed as I disemboweled him, and how I shut him up the way that he used to silence me. Yes, that's what I'll think of.
Oh, they want to know if I have any last words? Yes. Yes I do.
"It was worth it, and I would do it all over again."
One second and counti-
End