Boy, have you learned? Learned how to iron, vacuum, clean the dishes, sweep the floor? Walk the dog, feed the dog? Boy, have you learned how to leave? How to say no, how to refuse, how to correct? Because Boy, for you will have to learn. Learn how to leave, how to travel, how to create. Create yourself. Boy, have you learned how to act? Act as a man? Treat women as materials, work until your fingers are raw? Boy, you must reproduce one man and one woman, to create your spitting image. Boy, they twisted your views into snarling dogs, rabid and unreasonable. Boy, they tried to make you something you weren’t, but Boy, you overcame and succeeded.

Now, Boy, now you are older, you are none of what they told you. Boy, you are a well mannered, hard working Boy. You learned how to overcome, finally. Boy, you left, you worked, you changed. Boy, you are you. But Boy, dare you speak out against those dogs, you will find yourself cornered. Boy, you are a good boy, but not good enough. Boy, the dogs, those that contain you, that teach you to become one of them, bite at you. Those dogs, biting at Boy’s feet, clawing their way up Boy’s shins, but Boy refusing and pushing away with his might. Boy, do you know that you can rid of these dogs?

Boy, you know you are well off. Boy, you understand those dogs will not be permanent. But Boy, you are scared. I understand. Boy, fight the dogs. But the dogs, they claw at my shins and thighs. The dogs leave scars, the dogs leave marks, whether they are seen or not. Why can’t you help me? Boy, help is something that men do not need. To become a Man, you must let the dogs gnaw at your bones and whittle their ways into your bones, carving and leaving their mark. The dogs may get into your soul, digging in their heels, and taking hold. But Boy, you are resilient, yes? Boy, you understand those dogs mean nothing?

Boy, you know to get back up. Boy, those dogs, those customs being forced upon you by a Man, once a Boy, who let the dogs carve their language into his bones and eat at his soul. That Man, that being, making you a dog. But why can’t I run from the dogs? Boy asks, terrified. Boy, you do not run. You fight. Boy, you fought, and you became you. The dogs are whittling slowly, and you feel it in your feet. Your toes, your nails. Boy, those dogs will not stop until they take over. But boy, whilst you are here, take control of those dogs and become a giant. A Man. Boy, you have learned. Boy, you do not treat women awfully, but Boy, you instead have interest in Men like you. Men who are being whittled at, who are being eaten at, but overcome those dogs eventually. Boy, you became the Boy who took over the Girl’s body, the Girl who was assigned chores and shut away in their dungeon. Boy, you molted. Boy, you became your true form. Boy, you may never become a Man, but that is okay. For you, Boy, have become a powerful force against the Men and the Women. The Women, with rats nibbling at the hairs on them, the nerves. The Men, dogs nibbling and carving at their ribs, spine, femurs. Telling them to stay in line, or disappoint. Boy, you failed. But Boy, you are you. Boy, congratulations.

 

Entry 2, part 3

Entry 1, part 3?

 

Father,

Listen to my pleads,

Blind, concerned,

Bewildered and scared.

Father, accept it.

Father, please,

I am begging you.

Father, thank you.

Thank you for letting me be,

Me.

 

 

Photo by smerikal

CC BY-SA 4.0 Junge ( boy ) by Ansel is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.

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