As my protege gave his goodbye speech, I browsed a few songs in my music library that would, in the past, have come in handy. I was looking over some slow, depressing R&B, and sorrowful alternative.
Yet this time around, what my soul really craved was Rob Zombie and Rammstein. I’m definitely back. So I’ve switched some things back to my original internet screen name, IronWynch.
IronWynch is a role play character whose name was poking a bit of fun at the so-called women’s empowerment trend of spelling woman or women like “womyn”. I spelled wench like “wynch”. At some point I made brief appearances as characters called “Whyre” “Bytch” and “Skynk” as jokes.
The IronWynch character was one of the first of the ITC mythos I allowed to peek out into public internet life. Her original body was abducted by aliens doing experiments on humans to attempt to culture flesh “wrappers” for robots. So she basically had synthetic innards and skeleton stuffed inside a human skin, but the skin was a complete organism in and of itself.
The name suited my personality, so I wore it around until I got deeper into Lovecraft fandom and went through the nice me phase that led me to be okay with being viewed as some kind of kitten. Then Kthulah became my “evil kitty” name since so many others had been overused.
Now, I’ll be using IronWynch more often.
I don’t really feel numb…just…unsurprised and merciless. He did all that blah blah, and then asked me how I feel about it. I told him that was no longer his business. So he gets all huffy and tells me to have a nice life. Whatever. What…I’m supposed to slash my wrists or something?
I still care about him as a person, but because of that, I will do nothing to ease whatever agony he claims to be going through over his decision (which I doubt). Nor will I try to make him feel better about it. He has failed me. My natural reaction to someone failing me is to not trust them with whatever it was they broke. I don’t care if it was on purpose or an accident. If I give someone my heart and they mishandle it, they don’t get it again unless they prove they can handle it…and thusfar, nobody has done that yet.
I guess I’m not worth it to them. I can accept that. I don’t fit their “grocery list”. I’m used to this by now. Though I haven’t been dumped alot in my life until I started dating in Israel, in a mere four years, I’ve gotten it streamlined. I’m a quick study, and one thing I have learned well is that if there is nothing else to save, save my dignity.
Whatever else they may think is lacking in me, none of them can say that they broke me…or really even harmed a hair on the ass of my Lycan soul.
- The Countdown Begins
- More Truth Roissy Can’t Handle
- No Going Back
- Do Cyborgs Dream of Electric Meat?
- The 80′s Return
- Reasons Not to Screw Up
- The Edge of the Cliff
- Former Fatty Syndrome
- Damaged Goods vs. Classic
- First Audience and Student