have conquered, and I yield. Yet, henceforward art thou also
Why do you make me what I am not? Why do you resort to me to live your dreams and nightmares? Why do you have to use me to overcome your own limits - or fancy you can overcome your limits through me?
I'm neither the hero nor the coward portrayed by you. I'm neither dominant nor submissive; I'm not a sadist, a debauchee, a misanthrope or a Scrooge. I never lived in the rank sweat of an enseamed bed, stew'd in corruption, honeying and making love over the nasty sty, and I don't know how to quote Shakespeare by heart. I'm not the frog that will become a prince when kissed by the other half you choose for me. I don't play cello or viola da gamba. I'm not a paedophile; I don't fuck my students. I haven't been raped in my childhood. I never took part in orgies with Lucius Malfoy or any other Death Eater. I don't suck my Masters' cocks.
As a matter of fact, my two Masters are much less authoritarian than you are. You keep me under Imperius night and day. You make me lust, suffer, and even love. Who gave you the right to exert such power over me?
Sometimes you even take me to your bed, and use me as an object of your lust. Very well. I'll tell you the truth, and I hope this truth hurts you for real: the man in your bed, he's not me. Neither am I the one who comes out of your pen, or dwells in your mind.
That man is only a warped image of your own perverted dreams. However, when you give life to this abominable form, you modify me somehow. Never the way you would like to, but you do.
The Koran forbids the reproduction of the human figure. I don't believe in any god, but I see merit in this precept. Anyone who creates a double should be punished and sent to hell.
Leave me alone. My life is already too complicated without you.
Ptyx, January 2005