one of my favorite things ever is when i’m driving and i see people jamming out to their favorite music full-blast in their car. it just makes me happy. they’re enjoying themselves and enjoying a moment, it’s one of those things that makes me smile.
My father’s actions, for some reason, let me grow with the idea that monstrosity could be translated into beauty if you use it right. And I know, deep, deep, down into my once-bitter soul, that the darkness grew from the absence of presence. Solitude took over, and that’s where my father’s secrets come to light, and play apart in my mind for years to come.
I know that what I desire is entirely wrong. But isn’t it true, mistresses get the most love? They are spat on and looked downed upon by generics, but when curtains are drawn, they are seen as goddesses and angels. They are showered with gifts and luxury and most importantly, love and lust. Is it really wrong? No one likes loneliness, so we find our own company. And we are the pure benefits.
The father left the daughter with this idea. But, the maternal figure was also affected. It dented the daughter’s view. The mother never spoke of a mistress to save face, and turned her head. Whilst the daughter saw everything, she observed with no explanation and took on her own interpretation. Her analysis: better be the mistress than the wife, as you are the lie and not the truth. So when all falls, you are your own safety net, and in the end, you still have diamonds and leather and your own version of the truth.
My heart is backwards, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.
"What was she for Valentine’s? An old forgotten concubine, someday she will die for no one."
Me > The Beatles tbh