Walking Practice

by Dolki Min

Ah, I was in far too disgusting of a state to arouse sympathy and a willingness to help.

They must have been thinking, if only you were just a little less repulsive, I would step forward and lend a hand.

My shoes and clothes had burst apart like the carcass of a cat crushed beneath the tire of a car, unable to withstand my form.

sheeesshhhh

You. You, dear reader, must be curious about my gender. Perhaps you are even feeling a little anxious. Or you might have scraped together clues from what I’ve said and how I’ve said it, constructing my gender to your own design. Regardless as to whether you are right or wrong, you will have come to your own conclusions.

I discovered that there are many of you who, when meeting someone new, first take their gender into account. I also get the impression that it is only after a gender has been assigned that you are seen as human.

What does it mean to be a woman? Among other things, it means that you have to decorate yourself and act like a woman.

For if the performance is not carried out properly, I am nothing more than a monstrosity.

The passengers are hurriedly fucking off like blood that finally penetrated an artery that’s been blocked for ten years.

What an odd metaphor

It seems that even the air gets tired of pretending to be empty now and then.

Please continue to be so inattentive. Please only give me attention when I want it.

—Oh really? I didn’t know. Use the stairs.

Literally no consideration. Tf

My body is a filthy jerk that is constantly keeping its eyes peeled for any chance to betray me.

—Are you a sweaty person? I can’t stand the smell. Well, I guess it doesn’t matter since you can shower here. Take one as soon as you get here.

Bro what a dick

You never know if one morning your planet will explode, breaking into hunks of rock floating in space with nary a fistful of oxygen for you to suck down. You should breathe it in while you can. Don’t be full of regret, like me. Regret isn’t a very enjoyable emotion.

While I was killing myself climbing that mountain of stairs, you just sat here playing with your dick, didn’t you? If you can’t get it up, I’ll fucking murder you. No, even if you blow my mind, I’ll kill you. You’re going to die.

All we both need is a living masturbatory aid. All we think is that it would be nice to have a lump of flesh to hold close, rub lips, and mouth our sex organs without all the cumbersome formalities. To brush up against a lump of flesh with an assigned age and gender. Lump of flesh to lump of flesh. That’s all.

Sometimes words, regardless of the sincerity with which they are said, can be a source of ecstatic pleasure in and of themselves.

My stomach is my second brain, and sometimes it threatens to steal the top spot.

I am a being that always requires f r i e n d l y explanation. If I d o n o t e x p l a i n, no one understands me. Only beings l i k e m y s e l f must p r o v i d e e x p l a n a t i o n . The demanding you; the demanded of me. You are the d e f a u l t l i f e - f o r m . You are the c e n t e r o f the universe. It must be s o 0 O 0 o 0 O 0 o 0 O 0 o nice.

again. I can’t lose focus for a second, even if it is a body I have used tens of times before. Because when I calm my nerves and relax at home, my body will immediately return to its original—balanced and harmonious—state. To regulate my body properly in front of others, I need to put myself through repeated excruciating training. This is my survival strategy. It would be wonderful if my body understood my objectives.

Am I incapable of fully enjoying even the smallest moments of happiness? As soon as I’m happy, I start having ominous thoughts of ruining that happiness.

these fucking maggots

sudden intense animosity towards humans. but is it actually sudden or just explicit now?

Hello, everyone? I can hear you all. Let me tell you, my hearing is perfectly sharp, even if my earlobes are dripping onto my shoulders.

the way people just talk about other folks like the person they’re talking about can’t hear them is wild. i’m guilty of it too tbh

For them, life is so boring that if someone doesn’t walk with ease, taking steady steps on two healthy legs of the same length, they violently overreact as if they were waiting for it. I think their bar for reactions is pretty low. They can’t wait to ogle a monster. Without monsters, how would they withstand the unrelenting futility of their days?

My body is slowly approaching the point where it’s difficult to pretend that I am okay. If I didn’t keep my body tightly restrained, I wouldn’t even last ten minutes.

My burden decreases when I highlight the differences between me and them. If they were the same as me, I couldn’t eat them. And even if they were like me, if I were to believe that I am fundamentally on a different level, I could devour them without a second thought. The moment that belief breaks

Immediately, m y f e e l i n g s f o r m y f a c e in the mirror turn to hate. A face that’s useless, g o o d f o r n o t h i n g . Thanks to the beauty standards on this planet, I’ve become much ugl ier than I was before. H i d e o u s . Ugly people (although I’m not a person) deserve to d i e. Or at least cover their faces. People who are c o n f i d e n t i n s p i t e o f t h e i r u g l i n e s s are the ugliest.

If you don’t delete your records from time to time, you’ll be able to know at a glance the date and frequency of eating out.

Sharing my worries with myself is impossible. I already know my w o r r i e s . I’m not h o p i n g f o r s o l u t i o n s. I n e e d s o m e o n e w h o w i l l l i s t e n . No, I’m asking for a person who will steal away my time with good conversation.

sounds like loneliness is a universal experience

To act the part of a woman, you’ve got to memorize a hefty script. Men should do the opposite. Just don’t act like a woman.

I look tranquil on the outside, but thanks to the unfriendly height and surface area of my heels, it feels like I’m about to twist my ankle and fall down the stairs, making an unsightly mess of myself.

Now that I’ve slung my bag across my shoulders to finish my disguise, I am camera ready. When I leave the house, unseen cameras will start shooting me. I’ve got to get my head on straight.

You, dear reader, earnestly play all your parts. The roles that were assigned to you without your consent are stuck to your body like a label: A label that you can’t remove before death. A label that can’t be removed even after death. The labels are invisible. They’re not really there, you know. They’ve melted into your flesh. They may have even made their home in a deeper, more abstract part of you. You won’t be able to fish them out even if you’re sliced up to the point that your bones are exposed and your guts are spilling out of your carcass.