Honeybee

Metamorphosis
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Ezoic
2021-10-12 15:12:05 (UTC)

Shadows

Sometimes I truly wonder what life would be like if I hadn’t discovered this website, if I hadn’t met C through it, and if I hadn’t come across B years after. What if I had stuck to my notebook diary, private and secret? Except it was almost inevitable, this course of action, because I was an introvert, a loner, and misunderstood, no one was a worthy friend around me so of course I turned to the internet for help. Odds are then or at a later date, I would have discovered it anyway.

It’s one of those days that my heart feels a little worn out. I try to focus on how I came out stronger because of everything that happened. If it weren’t for what happened on here, I wouldn’t have built my endurance and learned to control my empathy, I wouldn’t have started to become a person with a sterner core. You know, when C counts my weaknesses, this event is brought up. I wonder if he was using it against me, as a point to his favour that I can be too empathetic and emotional and weak. It’s my fault to have expected so much; to have expected friendship, honesty, sharing everything with a partner… I expected decency. I expected certain roles to be filled the proper way, as I would offer as well. I was trying to find a note I wrote about an erotic story the other day. I remembered I talked about it with C on Viber but the word search couldn’t find it. It did lead me to most conversations about erotica and erotic art, the same conversations that ended up as fights and arguments. I was going over them thinking how monumentally stupid it all seems now. I was genuinely so excited to talk about genre, to try to analyse this genre in particular and to make something artistic out of it rather than plain pornography. I was excited to introduce this discourse to C because it involved analysis and thought and creativity, but all he could focus on was that I was producing art that other men might get off on. And that bothered him but his “compromise” was that instead of telling me to stop the project and be honest about why he’s so bothered by it, he asked I simply don’t talk about it with him. And that’s hard to do considering I’ve been sharing my creative ideas with him for, I don’t know, the past decade or so. I should have sifted through all that bullshit. There are so many things I would have done differently, SO many things.

Now there’s this dark cloud sitting over my head and I don’t know why. Maybe it’s remembering all this. Sometimes much of this reinforces my anger, and I find myself even more distant from the girl I used to be. I used to be so warm when it came to these matters; I used to be so eager to share, to befriend, and to help. Now, I feel colder when it comes to love. I feel a little more selfish. I want to be provocative out of spite, and I want to get people angry out of spite. Maybe that’s my shadow-self talking; maybe this is her day to come out. No wonder I imagine her so dark and scowling—the ultimate ice queen.


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