CONJOINED

Underrated things

She deserves more because she sees another version of that man. It's up to her to have the worst version of him.
He treats her as if he were an animal, and she is a rag doll.
She is patient, gentle, submissive, never says no, and always has a smile.
She is waiting for him in the same place as always, with her mouth and legs wide open. It's almost like she doesn't have a will of her own and just depends on him.
But don't think she doesn't like it; on the contrary, she loves it. She loves the taste of the forbidden. He loves to have disgusting sex on the spur of the eye, to get into places where she shouldn't. In an abandoned school, in the restroom of a store, in the office, in a forest, and other places that no one would go to but she would, by the mercy of that animal.
While his wife has a cushioned, comfortable soft bed, she has to get muddy with dirt, breaking her knees on a floor that not even God puts his feet on it. But she does. He empties his tank of bitterness, boredom, frustrations, into her mouth. It seems easy, but then she starts crying for two full months so she can get him out of the system. There are times when she can't get it out, and she just drowns, and there's no one to save her. But that doesn't matter because; it feels good to risk everything for those blessed 11 minutes.
When she gets home, a shower is not enough, and she would like to tear off her skin as if it were clothes and throw it away. I repeat: a simple shower is not enough. This dirt is not removed by anything. It's not just another story of a whore; this is worse. She feels so lonely, she does everything for free, and the only thing she wants in return is that animal's approval.
She has to eat once and enjoy very little.
While he eats twice, once in one city, and once in a different city. He fills up his belly, and he's never hungry but she is, she's always hungry but not for what you think.
She is hungry to feel accompanied, to be able to clean the dirt from her body, to be only of one man (not married), and to stop feeling useless and empty.
That kind of hunger that doesn't satisfy so easily. When the festivities come around she dresses up, puts on her heels, puts on makeup and sits in the living room and points her empty gaze at a white wall, and all those memories of the animal's face having orgasms and laughing, come to her.
Every month she was there for him, swallowing the worst and wildest version of him, and when December comes, she can't have him.
What an injustice. She imagines the animal in his best clothes, in the living room with his wife. The wife who didn't have to put up with anything she put up with is the same one who has him well-dressed, perfumed, silhouetted there in her living room, laughing, and telling her that he loves her, but with a blank empty stare, as always. December, the worst month of the year when you think back on what you did during the year, and it's up to you to feel sad or happy. So there she is alone, sitting in the middle of the living room on December 31st, victimizing the animal: "He's not like that, he's good, I'm sure I'm to blame because I tempt him, maybe if I had been more decent and self-conscious none of this would have happened...
Those 11 minutes felt good, but what did it cost? Was it really worth it to be there for the animal for an entire year, to just be left alone with an armchair on December 31st?
Do I deserve a little more, or don't I really deserve it because I'm a whore? What if one day karma comes to me and when I get married, my husband does the same to me?"
And there's the biggest stain of all, the one that was collected over a whole year, this one is impossible to get out, no matter how much she showers. She can feel it and smell it. And if you're wondering what it smells like, it smells like curdled milk, but she can't do anything besides keep smelling it and keep staining the couch. That's how she'll stay every December for the rest of her life, alone, pretty, in the same armchair as always with the smell of curdled milk.

I hope he feels the same way as I feel.
I hope he couldn't stop feeling guilty.
I hope when you look at your wife, you'll see me.
I hope karma doesn't get him, and his daughter doesn't have to go through something like this.
I hope one day I could run away, but not today; it's not December yet, and I'm on my way to the same place as always.

If you're a woman and you identified with this, get out of there before it's too late.

-The other woman is very underrated.

And a song of Lana that I love, the instrumental version.