Do you know why I'm indestructible?
Because, darling, I'm my own worst enemy. You genuinely believe your risibly contumacious soul could despise me more than my own? Wives leave their men only when they break their spirits and spirits leave their inhabited bodies unwillingly. I had a new soul with every decade the guardian of time counted on my name. I had one that was stolen, one that was broken and the one which lost its way.
I'm aware you thought we come to this inexorable life with one soul and leave without it, it must make us incomparably idiosyncratic. It's why they write all these sonnets, poems and music of individuality. You could be diagnosed with multiple personalities, your visage adjusts to time's sovereign naturally but you supposedly acquiesce to one soul. That was calamitously inapplicable to yours truly.
When my first soul savored innocence, it was thieved by its provider. For a boy is not to shed a tear or clutch a woman's dress for reassurance, cheers to the first soul. Cross the bridge to manhood, they said. I burnt the whole fucking thing down by tossing my puff and walked away with bloodied footprints, for what's a man if not a savage? Cheers to the second soul. And when she came to show me what a real man looked like, I saw myself covered in human flesh and skin for the very first time. But I was shredded off my bones when the ground embraced hers.
Try your best, darling.
I broke myself first.
