Own your fake

Right and wrong: The basis of our society. Guilt: The root of right and wrong. Guilt is the only concrete evidence one has to what is, by definition, right and wrong. Guilt consumes a man until he is leeched from what he once was. Nathanial Hawthorne so eloquently wrote of this exact theory in, “The Scarlet Letter.” Whether a man is religious or not does not come into play. Guilt is the basis of religion. Guilt told a man not to kill again, so he wrote it. Guilt told a man not to feel rage, so he preached it. Guilt told a man not to feel jealousy, so he practiced it. When one receives the chance to feel guilt, he should almost feel excitement. Excited for the beckoning questions, the captivating curiosity, the impartial impairments of thought, to finally subside. Yes, guilt will help do this. 

Own your fake. Fake: 1) To prepare or make: To fake a report card. 2) To conceal the defects of or make more attractive, interesting, valuable: The story was faked a bit to seem more attractive.  How does one compare a person to a story book? “That girl is fake,” was never mentioned. Operative word: Is. The word “is” in this sentence is stating the adjective of the subject. Therefore the subject is fake. Well, when raised with the question, “What is fake about the girl?” Answers can vary: She doesn’t actually talk like that, her hair is actually blonde, her breasts are actually quite small, she’s not naturally that tan. Well she used to be a small breasted, well spoken, pale, blonde. Now she is simply a large breasted, ditsy, tan, brunette. She has transformed herself into something. She is not fake, she is just no longer who she used to be. Everyday people change, everyday they grow. Whether they grow negatively or positively, they grow. Morphing into something completely different, they become what they now are. Therefore, the “fake” woman is not fake, she is who she grew into. Who are you to say if it is right or not?

Even to feel cheap is a need many seem to feel. An hour ago gold was dripping from my chest, failing to keep my thighs cold. I found that as the night grew deeper into sublime, my body felt the need for my riches to be ripped from my body and torn into worthless scraps. For my body to be held on the surface of love and the most endearing of lust. I felt my body craving to be abused. There are many reasons the fellow sells his body to the craves of the night and not the beauty of the dawn. He searches for the soul worthy enough to be abused by his natural kamasutralap. Feel cheap little girl; Then cry. Cry because feeling cheap is the only escape from reality you have. When you come back it will be waiting for you, and you will feel the ounce of relief you searched and seized. Sell your body, not for money but for the dire thirst you hold for the need of tears. For the need of feeling like your pedestal really does not sit so high, that some days you fall. For the need of feeling more intelligent than the abuser. For the need of feeling sorry for yourself. How did you get to this point?