the internal conflicts of a woman on the subway
rating: +15+x

Sit up straight

"Why?"

The guy sitting next to you looks at you when you push your chest out.

"That's gross, I don't want him to look at me like that."

Obviously, you do, or else you wouldn't have done it the first two times.

"That wasn't intentional!"

Please. You're a sniveling whore, and not even a good one at that.

"I'm not! I just-"

But you are, aren't you? you'll pretend to turn your nose up at these men, but we both know that isn't what you really want. I can hear it you know? Every sick, depraved thought that runs through that head of yours.

"Stop."

Oh? gonna start acting like you have some self-respect now?

"I do-"

You don't. You never did. All you've ever wanted is to be wanted. The thing about you, is that you fool yourself into believing that you're interesting enough for anyone to ever love you for the kind of person you are. It's pathetic.

"Please just stop, it's enough-"

No, I don't think it is. You're a whore. for attention, for money, for all of those little things you can't admit mommy and daddy didn't give you enough as when you were a kid

"…"

You deny me. You deny the most base urges that you know to be true in your soul, all for the sake of preserving what's left of your pathetic, broken pride. You are nothing in the face of your subconscious mind. No matter how you crave to be the powerful, respectable women of old, you'll always be a greasy stain upon their reputation. A disgrace to all who fought for you.

"I… am…"

Absolutely nothing worth dwelling on. The same slut you always were. The one you'll always be.

"You're right. I'm sorry."

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License