You can’t be THAT!
I’m sure this has been said by so many, in so many ways.
It’s not that I want to be this, but I don’t NOT want to be this either. I know fate is a fraud in matters of self-realization. Sure, there are elements outside of a person’s control, but they have less to do with what you are and more to do with what you allow yourself to be.
Those with narrow minds, want so badly to ensure I remain exactly what they think I am. More than that, what they really want is to ensure I become what they believe I should be. Most want me to be their distraction, a brief and infrequent vacation from their own self-imposed prison.
My being and identity is fluid, but for better or worse, I come in a particular package. Along with that package comes a set of instructions. They’re more like rules of engagement, written by the visitor. The package looks a certain way, speaks a certain way, walks and talks a certain way, and has value ONLY when the product matches the package. The reason for such a superficial view of the “Monster”? Security, familiarity, safety. Not in their presence, but in knowing that lust and desire is transient in your world. Disposable, just throw the Monster out. Deny that which brought you to their doorstep to begin with. You purchase the Monster with lust and desire, not emotion, most often you already have the emotion from elsewhere.
Like moving into your first apartment, where you envision great eclectic furnishings, freedom to live by your choice, have great parties, fuck in your very own bedroom and basically live the romantic, artistic lifestyle that seems so enticing. Contrast that with your first house. Garden, picket fence, dog, kids, and ’til death do you part”. Still romantic, but mostly safe and secure. Roots, future, something to build upon. A life most ordinary, but familiar and acceptable. Now tell me, to which place do you invite the “Monster”?
I can tell you. The Monster can find their way through any apartment in the dark and barely make a sound. I’ve done it a hundred times! In your house, shit will get broken. Noise will be made. Everyone will know the Monster was there. And you? Lust and desire will be replaced by shame and regret. People will judge. You will fabricate, equivocate, obfuscate and ultimately deny not only the temporary presence of the Monster, but that your compulsion to have the Monster, however transient, ever existed. In the standard dodge, one can pull from the long litany of explanations.
The Monster tricked me.
The Monster raped me.
The Monster wants me and won’t leave me alone, but I’ve done nothing.
I was drunk, high, angry, lonely, horny,
I ONLY kissed the Monster and I didn’t even like it.
I felt sorry for the Monster.
I fucked the Monster but all I could think of was YOU.
You don’t pay attention to me, so I used the Monster to get back at you.
I’m (insert sexual orientation here), and I was curious about the Monster.
I love YOU! I could NEVER love the Monster.
Regardless of the outcome, certain facts will ALWAYS re-emerge. You want the Monster near and available. You are jealous when others have the Monster (and are critical of those who do). You describe the Monster as “important or special” in your life, but you have no intention of committing to the Monster. You feel a sense of loss when the Monster appears disinterested in you, in much the same way you treat the Monster most of the time.
You get “that” feeling every time you see the Monster. You think about the Monster more often than you do the person you declare to “love” I hear it all the time.
Finally, this is the ultimate truth: The Monster knows these things, and so do you. The only difference is that the Monster can admit these things and love herself and others without making them disposable.
So, really, who is the Monster afterall?