Blancheline

Selfportrait with my Blancheline.

This is something I wrote back in 2005.

She decided since a long time ago to renounce to this offering that would be made to her one day or the other. She would not bleed and would not feel dirty. She would not suffer and would not feel any disgust as it would happen. She would not be pretty but whatever, behind that concession she would keep all her pride. She would not conceive and would not let any man touch her, because of suffering she didn’t want and of dependence she had always been wary. She would confuse her parents and annihilate her destiny. She would not become a woman. Or at least she would be one without being it entirely. In this purpose, she had undertaken to beat herself until delivery ensues. On the chest, under the ribs. Finally, she had decided to die on the day her princess would die. Not before, no, she had to ensure to not make her princess unhappy. She would be too sad. She had decided of what was appropriate to do then. She would go up there and in front of the crowd in awe she would jump with her princess. An epic-tragic end, as appropriate.

But she never kept her promises and joined the world of men without noticing it. Without noticing it she began to feel attached to them. Without noticing it she neglected her princess. Her love, her life, her beauty. She didn’t even want to die for her anymore. She would die for men. Alone, perjurer, dishonored.

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