Once there was a butterfly. She never thought she was beautiful.
One day, she did not know whether she was awake, or dreaming.
It was horrible. Some things were pulling at her wings, making it hurt excruciatingly. She screamed, and cried, and after a while, she became numb. The pulling continued. They ripped her wings apart, little by little, making it pain, more and more.
Mmmm… Aaaah. The beautiful pain. The pain which is beauty. The pain which gave a comfort. An orgasmic pleasure.
They pulled, and ripped, and burnt and hurt.
She cried, through her numbness.
“Don’t worry,” they said, “Maybe you’ll grow prettier wings!” And they smiled. Showing all their teeth.
And they continued tearing her wings apart. One by one, they tore at her. Poked needles into her. Raped her. Burnt her. Bit her. Ate her. Scratched at her wounds. And hurt her more. And applied chemicals to not stop the bleeding, and increase pain. Little by little, they edged through her beautiful wings.
“But..” She said, “But… I had beautiful wings…”
She had. Not anymore. Not anymore…
*
The ideology of chances is bullshit. The moment you make a choice, your life alters into an irreversible unique path. You have no choice but to traverse it. And you have no chances.
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