Forbid her hurts…

It is soundless in this house, with the snores of my grandmother which propriety would beg of me to classify as gentle, coming from her room. I plead insomnia and the weather, but more is the story I cannot get out of my head. distaste is a short story that has haunted me throughout today, hounded because I cannot get my mind off this, so maybe I should talk about it.
There’s something going on in our world, a sort of game; boy meets girl. Boy likes girl. Girl doesn’t. Girl likes another boy who likes another girl instead and no one ever gets who they want.I play this game too, have been hurt in this game as well and everyone knows what’s happening but we cannot help our selves, because you cannot like what you cannot like. In distaste, a magical world collapses, a carefully constructed world where a woman, previously unnoticed and unwanted gets to bare her soul through little tales.Love makes us bold, can create a new personality,or maybe just makes what was hidden rise up, but perfection is suspect. We can only have minimal doses of it until someone or thing sends the shock through our spines.
I have decided that I am a classicist and not a romanticist. So I am a potential realist lover and maybe that means I will be a great,old spinster at fifty because who is willing to indulge my ‘ high tastes ? But even so, I understand what it means to connect with people, numerous people in ways that make me feel I have been understood and I am not alone in this world; soul mates exists. This is what happens to Miriam in this story who was encouraged by  Sarala to register on an online dating site. But those wonderful intelligent conversations that lit up her world were not from a man who for the first time made her feel romantically appealing, but from Sarala herself. Who knew that this woman who ate stale biscuits with her sad life as punching bag to a lousy husband could be so ingenious…
Lesbian love whether wrong or not is an attachment.Rejected as it was because of how ugly it had become  when acknowledged, creating a shift in the relationship between these two women is painful( from two equal women to one worshipping the other and not having that reciprocated).That feeling , no matter your thoughts about it, is not something that can be erased by the snap of the finger. It should be acknowledged and understood that the pain of having a ‘no’ slamed on the face is valid. And so, I felt hurt for both women. 
The more available things are, the less we acknowledge them. The more easily we devalue them and soon relegate them into nothingness and casualness. This can be observed when a lover has the other in his or her hand. Wishes became the significant other’s commands and soon,being taken for granted is the order of the day. This inevitably will happen in every relationship, and it is with tact and maturity that we extricate ourselves from such situations and  reduce eventual repetitions. The question, do men like coy women? Will you value a woman less if she goes straight for you when she likes you? Do you suddenly find it disgusting when you are praised and celebrated by people you were dying to notice you? All these is explored in this story.
This story has made me want to acknowledge every feeling, whether pure or immoral, and every obsession I have as valid enough and only then work towards removing myself from the ones I know will harm me eventually. But acknowledge them to myself is what I will do and if i trust enough, maybe I will talk about them publicly, because I don’t know how many hypocrites exist in our world who will never confess to having same sex attractions before, even when they have, but are ready to jump at others, curse them and desire their death.

Distaste here : read the story

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