bearded turbaned hulk

“Better to be shit than someone who blows himself and others up for a delusion”

DAA 2020

I shouldn’t have said it. I really should not have. But my level of comfort with him is so high that I could not help it. I literally blurt out any and everything when it comes to him. Also, he gets under my skin. Does he? No, that’s not it. He’s not the insidious grime under my nails. That’s not it. It’s my obsessive inclination to be an antagonist. We didn’t start the fire. Oh no. I don’t think you understand. I did start the fire. I wanted to. And therefore, I did. I really shouldn’t have said it. But it’s that drive, that persona i had carefully cultivated, that has now taken over me. I have become who I joked about being. I guess you could call me a chameleon. Or a circus mirror. Something in between. I adapt to the situation and show people a warped view of what they claim to believe in. And then they get angry and throw rocks at me. My glass shatters, I disappear. All metaphorical, of course. Sticks and stones may break my bones, and words will always hurt them. As of late though, it has been interesting. My friend who belongs to the kingdom of feminism, whom I say very misogynistic things in front of, she’s been upset. And then there is this one. We used to be close once upon a time. Perhaps I mistake the seriousness of the situation here. I do tend to take things too lightly. He gets really upset over text. And then when we meet in person, he’s all smiles. You can forgive a man for not taking the subject seriously when the target behaves like that. We used to be very close once. But then I began to cultivate that persona. We were still close. But then pleasure got in the way of our friendship. A girl. The girl. The one that got in between two of my closest friendships. To be fair to her though, it wasn’t her. It was my immaturity regarding her. So I mean, she’s clear. And I was also cultivating the aforementioned persona. And that led to the downfall of man. And therefore I say these things to him to antagonize him. And then joke with my friends about how if I stay in this country for too long, I will get lynched. I will. I don’t mind. Life is overrated. Potential suitors, please don’t take this as a red flag. My father would not be pleased. Appreciate the writing and the depth of emotion and feeling. That is what you need to be looking for. Though I understand your concerns, I do. The product of your flesh and of your bodies is precious to you. Rest be assured, and of course, you only have my word for it, but a man’s word is all he has, that if I take yours to be my betrothed, I will treat her like a queen. Rest be assured.

A screech. I look out the window. Another screech. Two more. Four cars outside my doors. Each one letting out men in turbans, some of which are holding sticks. Ooh, lynching time. I lie down on my bed, head couched above my hands, to wait.