Your beautiful abomination

Don’t stop this movement, let it consume itself smoothly as it should, slowly, let it flow beautifully like the glorious flight of a bird, don’t let it fade, because if it fades then everything will be lost, including you, my love, and I don’t want to lose you, I don’t even want to imagine that, I don’t want to experience it even if it’s for the sake of experience, let me stay here with you, five more minutes, five more minutes and I’ll go, I’ll leave my thoughts with you, I’ll leave my love with you, let this presence of mine linger a bit more around you. The car speeds down the highway, I hold my hand on you thigh, trying to feel the fullness of it, the things that make it the thigh of a human being. You’re there, and I want to make sure of that, I want to make sure that this is not just my lust gone mad, a hallucination which has occupied my mind for so long that I started to perceive it as a real thing. You’re squeezing too hard, you say, it hurts. I’m sorry, I say, and try to relax my fingers, make you feel comfortable with me around you. I’ve missed you so much, I say, even though we haven’t seen each other before this. You smile, I could feel the hesitation in you though I know it is a false hesitation, you’ve told me. Yes, you say, this is really strange, how can you miss something you haven’t seen before?
That’s true, how is that possible, since that which you miss has not occupied any space in your life then how can you even notice its disappearance?
But that does not matter now, I tell him, just give me a quick kiss. I lean over the chair and feel his wet lips on mine. That was so good, I tell him, could I have another one? Just be careful, he says, these kind of things can be dangerous while driving. Trust me, I tell him and lean over the chair again, this time with a smile, my eyes locked on the road. You reach out, your hand still timid, still the hand of a boy who’s too afraid to touch somebody other than himself, your flesh prepared to draw back suddenly like a scared animal. I can feel the warmth of your skin on my thigh, then the tightness, the pressure of your palm. A wave of tremors goes through my muscles. I take your hand in mine and kiss it as softly as I could then place it back gently on my thigh.
Don’t stop this flight, the emptiness, the great pleasure of finding you beside me, available, there, in that place, the closest place on Earth in this distance that stands between our two bodies, here, inside, there is nothing outside. Let me hold you. And you let me hold you, smiling, finally acknowledging my presence. I’m here to stay, I tell him. I know, he says.
Among these few lines there is a mistake, a word you thought of as something insignificant. It’s not. You’ll try to find it but it’s not there. My love, in this dialogue of ours we are both losing, it’s a lost bet since this love of ours is just the glorious architecture of my mind. Observe the lack of details, observe how everything has been reduced to the essential, how there is nothing else outside, how there are no other people, how it never rains, how it is never sunny, how everything seems like a limbo. There are no other human beings except what goes through my mind, except who goes through my mind, except you. And I’m so afraid, my love, afraid that we won’t be able to hold this world together by ourselves. I’m afraid that I won’t be strong enough to do it.
Could we at least try it, he says.
Yes, we can try it. Tell me what I have to do, and I’ll do it, even if it’s the most difficult thing in the world.
First, he says, act as if you love me.
I don’t need to act in order to do that, I tell him, I’ll just be myself, that will be enough.
No, he says, do as I tell you, act as if you love me, because then afterwards we’ll try something else.
What do I need to do in order to complete this request of yours, I ask him.
You have to take me out, buy me presents, take showers with me, and bubble baths, wear my shirts as you go to sleep and when I’ll ask why you’re doing that you’ll tell me that you like to feel my scent during the night when you suddenly wake up out of a heavy dream. Hug me and kiss me when my friends are around, make sure I’m sitting comfortably when we’re out, make space for me if I need more space, order for me, pay for me, keep your knee close to mine when we’re sitting close to each other, hold my hand, try to keep physical contact with me whenever you have the chance, smile every time you look at me and use that sweet face of yours, hold my jacket, kiss me on the lips whenever we say goodbye, act as if you’re the man when my father or my mother is present, protect me, let me fall asleep on your shoulder, let me cry on your shoulder every time I feel like it, take me wherever I want to go. Demonstrate that you love me by acting as if you love me.
I did all of these. Then went back to him on my knees.
What should I do now, I asked him.
You’ll have to do everything else, he told me, don’t take me out, don’t buy me presents, don’t take showers with me, don’t wear my shirts, don’t hug me and don’t kiss me when my friends are around, don’t make sure I’m sitting comfortably, don’t make space for me, don’t order for me, don’t pay for me, don’t keep your knee close to mine, don’t hold my hand. Can you still love me? Do you still love me?
Of course I do. But how will you know?
I’ll now. Even in their absence, I’ll know that you love me. You see, in this love of ours you have to get used to this, you have to get used to presence and absence, to lying and telling the truth, to hiding it and showing it.
How will I be able to do that?
It’s not without difficulty, he says, but you’ll be able to do it, because you’ll know, you’ll know that presence is as good as absence, and absence is as good as presence, that lying is as truthful as telling the truth, and that hiding it from the others is as good as showing it. This love of ours plays a double game. We’ll need to invent our own language, play with words, call things by other names, and in the meantime rage will grow furiously like poisonous herbs do, rage against everything else and everyone else, and in this rage you’ll find yourself so alone that you’ll get used to it, consider it natural, a thing for you to keep and nurture. You’ll find it funny, adorable, and in this rage you’ll wake up every morning.
Call me Rage, in case you need a name for me. Call me Fear, call me yours.
I am my own Rage, I am my own Fear.
Rage has a thing for you, my love, Fear has a thing for both of us.
There’s the fear of being caught, the fear of being blamed for this love of ours, the fear that there have been things unknown to us, refused to us just because of this love of ours, the fear of dying alone, the fear of waking up alone and realizing this has been only a dream, the fear that dreams may never come, the fear that a dream is just a dream and nothing more, the fear that you have found somebody else, the fear of the other body, the other man, the other woman, the fear of confusion, the fear of not having a clue, the fear that the war is already lost to both of us.
My name is Rage. Boiling Rage. My name is Rage Against Everything Else That Is Not You. My Rage is directed against those things which try to keep me away from you. My Rage is directed against the thoughts that make you appear putrid and lost, my rage is directed against those nights in which I have to go to bed alone, those mornings in which I find myself alone in bed, those mornings in which I have to drink my coffee alone. My Rage is directed against the bitterness of solitude.
My love, he says, rage is everywhere, Rage is here with me. I am Fear. Love me.
Rage and Fear got together and made love to each other. Unfortunately, neither Fear, nor Rage could have children, and so they were left alone with themselves. Their child could have been an abomination, and I myself would be lost for words trying to describe that child, just because my words couldn’t measure the beauty of that child, the fairness, and the happiness that the child brought to both Rage and Fear. It was the most beautiful Abomination because it was born out of love and other stories, which you surely know by now, they say that everything that comes out of love is beautiful, or at least should be considered beautiful.
My name is Abomination. I have taken up many forms up until now except this form: that of a child born out of love. I was born out of Rage and out of Fear. Love me. Try to love me. Act as if you could love me. Be silent, pretend. Because if you act as if you love me then I’ll know that deep down there is at least the desire to accept me for who I truly am, your beautiful Abomination.

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