Женщины

Chapter 93

           Itwaslikeprolongingtheagony.WhatkindofshitwasI?Icouldcertainlyplaysomenasty,unrealgames.Whatwasmymotive?WasItryingtogetevenforsomething?CouldIkeepontellingmyselfthatitwasmerelyamatterofresearch,asimplestudyofthefemale?Iwassimplylettingthingshappenwithoutthinkingaboutthem.Iwasn’tconsideringanythingbutmyownselfish,cheappleasure.Iwaslikeaspoiledhighschoolkid.Iwasworsethananywhore;awhoretookyourmoneyandnothingmore.Itinkeredwithlivesandsoulsasiftheyweremyplaythings.HowcouldIcallmyselfaman?HowcouldIwritepoems?WhatdidIconsistof?Iwasabush-leaguedeSade,withouthisintellect.AmurdererwasmorestraightforwardandhonestthanIwas.Orarapist.Ididn’twantmysoulplayedwith,mocked,pissedon;Iknewthatmuchatanyrate.Iwastrulynogood.IcouldfeelitasIwalkedupanddownontherug.Nogood.TheworstpartofitwasthatIpassedmyselfoffforexactlywhatIwasn’t-agoodman.Iwasabletoenterpeople’slivesbecauseoftheirtrustinme.Iwasdoingmydirtyworktheeasyway.IwaswritingTheLoveTaleoftheHyena.

           Istoodinthecenteroftheroom,surprisedbymythoughts.

           Ifoundmyselfsittingontheedgeofthebed,andIwascrying.Icouldfeelthetearswithmyfingers.Mybrainwhirled,yetIfeltsane.Icouldn’tunderstandwhatwashappeningtome.

           IpickedupthephoneanddialedSaraatherhealthfoodstore.

           "Youbusy?"Iasked.

           "No,Ijustopenedup.Areyouallright?Yousoundfunny."

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