Wednesday, 8 February 2012


Men have used me. They still use me. They look upon my body with greed. All they think about is what they can gain from using me. They think I exist only for them, that without them I would be useless. As if all I can offer is pleasure and if they weren’t around to receive it there would be no point to me.

They want so much from me but are never ready to give anything back. When I am ill they watch on with little interest, waiting for when I am better. When they hurt me, or scar me, or burn me they feel no remorse; they think it’s entirely my fault and why should they help at all. They continue to hurt me, as if this is supposed to happen, this is the natural order of things. They think that maybe if it happens enough I’ll get used to it, grow a harder skin; become immune. Over the years men have found new and more interesting ways to use me. There is no denying that men are smart and inventive and yet so deadly and cunning.

Men find it so hard not to destroy things, they feel power over it. In truth, I am more powerful than they are but they don’t want to think that, that thought scares them. If they think that way they get angry and then destroy more, just to prove that they are strong and I am weak.

Some men don’t like the natural look; they want new and modern, things that are only possible through science and technology. I have been altered drastically. I look so different from when I was younger. I am nearly unrecognisable. I have unnatural things in my body; chemicals and artificial materials smother my supple skin, where things should grow unashamedly is now completely bare. Metal has even pierced my most precious and secret areas. I am bigger in some places and much smaller in others, it’s almost unhealthy. But this look pleases the men, they are proud of what they have done.

I hear them talk about me, as if I have no opinions or feelings of my own. They agree on what they can do to me, they settle on their price. There have been times were parts of me have been sold for a very high price. And then, there have been times where the price was so little, so degrading. The most dreadful times are when I have been unfairly shared or simply taken.

Of course, there are times when I feel an immoral sense of pride as they fight over me. Men think they own me. They hate it when they see others touching me, touching their property. Blood has been spilt across my skin many times. Sometimes it is just two men, or a group, but there have been times when hundreds have died for me. It has been this way for years and I doubt it will ever truly stop, for as long as my body is bright and fresh people will want it.

Yes, men have used me and hurt me. But the women have hurt me just as much. They think that men are the worst culprits. They will readily point at them, blame them, scream at them, but they are just as much at fault. Women try to look the best, smell the best; be the best. But none of them can rival my pure, natural beauty and this angers the women. So they take it out on me. They try to destroy me and then blame it on the men.

Some men believe themselves to be heroes, as if they can whisk me away to some better place. They believe they’re the ones that will fix me. And yet, they’re still here using me. Men won’t stop coming to me because truthfully they don’t want to be the one missing out. Just because one man stops using me doesn’t mean all the others will. And if one man can have me they should all be allowed to. So the hero who thinks he can save me, he’s in denial, he wants to use me just as much as the others and that hurts so much more.
But I guess I don’t blame them, the men or the women. I started this myself, in a way, I invited them, enticed them. I knew what I had, what I could do and I wanted to show off to everyone, it just didn’t go the way I expected it to go. But I don’t think it’s possible for me to take it all away now, the men wouldn’t be able to cope, they’d go mad, and it would destroy them. I sometimes wonder what it would be like if I did leave. Would they give up? Would they die? Would they just get on with their lives? Or worse, would they move on and find another to satisfy their needs?

I have heard talk of another place that they could go to when I have dried up and burnt out. They talk as if I cannot hear, as if I won’t be hurt. They have made big plans already; they have spent so much time, attention, and money. They act as if I will be gone very soon and they must hurry with their schemes. But I do not feel ready to die yet, I want to go on living and have them be with me. I have seen where they want to go and I am so much better. I am not usually a jealous being but this angers me. How dare they leave me before I am ready? I have given so much to them and they just used me, they got all they can out of me, changed me, defiled me. What can I possibly do without them? After all these years it’s not like I can create anything new, I cannot bring life anymore, they made sure of that. Well, I will not be abandoned. I will make them sorry that they ever got involved with me.

I will make them pay for ruining Earth. 


  1. Wonderful great job

    1. Thanks. Did you get that I was trying to make her sound like she was a prostitute? My lecture didn't seem to understand that so I am currently rewriting it.