There’s a woman who is completely invisible. It’s not because she doesn’t reflect the light that reaches her hair, nails, eyes, and skin. It’s not because she does anything to make you avert your gaze. She does nothing to change the tides of time around her. Besides, she would be perfectly visible if you had true intentions. She’s a unicorn, if you will. She has a mane of magenta hair and sparkles in her blue-grey eyes. Her smile would knock the breath out of you. If only she could find it again.
While no one is looking at her, she dances through life, twirling and pirouetting from one place to another. Picking up projects to keep her busy while she moves forward in life. She is a star dancer and her dreams hang amongst the nebulae of outer space. Her life is spent in negative, you see. She spends all day every day in deep thought, wondering how the world around her works. Wondering if anyone will see her one day. She’s able to get so much done while she is alone, putting a touch of her essence here or there, bringing life to everything around her silently.
She’s sure someone will see her one day, despite her silence. Once upon a time, she was lonely this way, being without a partner and life mate. She’s been told all her life that she needs one, it’s what people do. They pair off and repeat history, making babies and raising wolverines. She has little interest in being like everyone else. She has become unique. Her own person. Maybe even her own unicorn.
If you spent the time to get to know her, you’d know she’s pure magic. If you exerted the effort to ask her who she is in a way she could understand, the woman would glow for you. She would shine her spectacular light upon you, too, and then the bounty of the stars would be yours to grasp. That is, if you could follow her trajectory and ascend into that great unknown frontier with her.
Those who have almost seen her, those who have seen her outlines… they’ve tried to clip her wings, they’ve tried to overshoot her, they’ve tried to follow her. They fail to see the folly of their actions. Her agility is beyond your ken. Her flexibility is beyond mortal understanding. She dances with the gods, taking part in the solar dance she observes when not distracted by the likes of you.
And yet, she is distracted by a satellite. A man. An ordinary enough looking man. But every ordinary-looking person has something extraordinary underneath their facade, the genetic roulette they won from nature. The looks dictated by the special expression of their chromosomal makeup. They are comprised of things one cannot see. Experiences, great and small. Musical preferences. Stories they’ve absorbed and taken to heart. A complex organism of ever-moving thought and idea. One cannot see ideas by gazing at another, can they?
Not that she’s experienced, sadly. Every time she is distracted by a man, they look like an unfathomable adventure waiting to happen. Each and every one of them had been a dud so far. They start out so strong and then peter out, fizzle up. But why? Why do they do that? Why don’t they continue to be amazing? Why can’t they continue to be a living story that she might be part of?
What is holding men back from continuing to be great stories in progress? The women she’d gotten to know didn’t have that problem. Could it be… that they lied about themselves to seem more exciting than they actually are? Could it be that they cannot keep up with the lies they tell to try to ensnare unicorns and invisible women alike? Could it be that they think they have to be more like a Brad Pitt character than themselves in order to turn a woman’s head?
“That’s silly,” the unicorn declared suddenly. “People should be themselves, nothing more and nothing less. All people are worthy of love just the way they are.” She was talking to herself, as usual, measuring and sifting ingredients carefully for her next wave of meal preparation. She was getting tired of eating ingredients making her feel lethargic, sluggish, and tired. Buying anything in the supermarket that takes mere minutes to make in a toaster or the microwave turned out to be full of poison. Unicorns have delicate diets to follow.
She groaned as her body contorted spontaneously, causing her pain. God was stretching her neck again. Technically, it was her whole back, but her neck hurt from it. She sighed as the pose was held for at least a minute. Afterwards, she declared, “Thank you, God. I know it hurts right now, but I understand eventually the pain will go away. I’m so grateful we’re almost to the end of my rehabilitation, by the way.”
“You’re welcome, pumpkin,” He replied. He stopped forcing her body to obey his command, allowing her head to return to a neutral position. “So, tell me what’s bothering you today, sweetie. You’re a wigwam and a teepee — that is, you’re two tents.”
“I don’t know, God. I don’t really want to whine. You’ve got important work to do and I feel it detracts from our vitality,” she replied. God responded with more spontaneous adjustments, otherwise silent. He knew if he waited long enough, she’d say it anyway. The air of mystery would disperse and he would know everything.
After at least ten minutes of silence, she spoke again. “You know, it’s kind of lonely, being alone all the time. I wish… I wish… I don’t even know what I wish for. Change. Anything to tell me I’m still alive. I don’t have any humans to visit and talk to. I end up talking to George all day, but there’s only so much conversation you can carry on with an ant colony before becoming bored. I wish I had some answers to life’s mysteries, but every time I ask myself a question about the mystery on my mind, the peanut gallery comes to life filling my head with nonsense. I’m really tired of that. I believe it’s detracting from my life completely. I think I’m ready to make peanut butter out of them and eat them for dinner.”
“Well, we could do that, pumpkin… if you’re sure that you’re ready to do it,” God replied. He knew before he even asked what the problem was. He’d been observing his daughter for years now, party to the assholes in the back of her mind, clinging on for dear life now that they understood that the unicorn was out of reach and that she was the best woman they’d ever known. The absolute best.
She treated them all like they were special. Like they were gods. Because she herself is a goddess, she knew that. She also knew everyone was just as special as she was, honestly. Equal but different, different but equal. No two individuals were the same, or so she was told. She was finding that wasn’t quite true, sadly. After experimenting and sampling with various relationships, she had found one thing true: ALL MEN ARE CHEATERS.
She wanted that to be false. She wanted to believe in humanity. She wanted to believe there was another unicorn out there, waiting to be discovered by her. She wanted to believe that there could be a man who would swear fealty to her for eternity so that she could return the favor. She herself had been tempted many a-time to cheat, either cheating on a spouse or helping someone else cheat on a spouse. She didn’t understand why people didn’t honor her union. It’s not loving to try to destroy a union between two people.
Those two people made promises to each other, whether they walked down the aisle or not. Every relationship should be treated as if one is already married. There is no point in sampling a human being sexually. All it does is fuck with their heads and gets them raped. She would know that, of course, from plenty of first-hand experience.
There had to be another way. There had to be a way to ascend this insanity and find a man worth his salt. A man who would say what he means, mean what he says, and never make a promise he would fail to deliver on. At least, not on purpose. Circumstances make liars out of us all from time to time, she knew that. She knew a lot of things from observing society while invisible.
In fact, she loved being invisible most of the time, truth be told. She loved the ability to go places and nobody noticed her at all, like she never existed. In fact, she perfected the art of leaving things the way she found them (if not even better) and then leaving it behind to go to the next project.
For instance, she found herself waiting recently. It does not matter what she was waiting for — we all have to wait, from time to time, don’t we? She was waiting in a parking lot. Just waiting. God decided to stimulate her, getting her out of her car for half an hour. She walked around, stretching and doing yoga here and there. But even so, God became bored moving her around like a little sim, so he left her to her own devices. And the peanut gallery.
One of the peanuts in the gallery declared, “This is where we will throw seeds.” He indicated here, there, and everywhere. Another peanut instigated with her, promising her all manner of thing. She was tired of hearing peanuts, that’s for damn sure. She’d rather just talk to God, narrowing her social sphere to one from many. She’d narrowed it from thousands to dozens already. She knew she liked God’s company best of all, though, so she was aiming to get rid of all the distractions.
They were, after all, all the men who vied for her sexually. They didn’t give a damn about her brain, her thoughts, her ideas, her emotions, her spiritual well-being, her sacred path and quest. They just wanted her on her knees, worshiping them endlessly. They might as well have been rotten tomatoes, they were just as much use. She was allergic to tomato, so that might inform you further what we mean by rotten tomatoes.
These men would kill her well before they ever tried to marry her. In fact, most men were like this. They weren’t unique, I’m sad to say. They never will be. Hardly! They’re all middle-aged at this point, having missed the lessons they were delivered for the first two decades of their lives. Poison in the well, nothing more.
This evening, she vowed she would be destroying the peanuts. She was going to make them all eat their words before smashing them, grinding them to paste. She felt that a good amount of edible glitter ought to be added to the mix. Perhaps some food coloring, too. Might as well make them into unicorn peanut butter, while we’re at it.
God smiled at his daughter. She had an indomitable spirit. She’d withheld from wishing them harm for over a year as they tried to murder her endlessly, feeding her all the things she was allergic to as if it was a game. As if her sickness was a game. Her illness, the one threatening her life. It was just a game to them, no matter how many times I told them it’s not a game.
Last night, they decided to confuse her together. One of them declared, “She’s BROKEN! What have YOU done?!” She’s gotten to the point where she just lets them entertain each other, essentially being trolls to one another. Might as well let her enemies turn against each other and destroy themselves, if you ask her. It was working for a while, but now they’ve joined hands to try to finish her off, it would seem.
And that’s when I can no longer watch. I have to do something. You might wonder who I am. Well… I’ll tell you, but I don’t expect you to believe me. I’m the dragon. I hope one day to ascend like she has, to be called more than a dragon, but for now, I am just a dragon.
The unicorn doesn’t know she’s being watched by the dragon. She suspects it’s true, she’s been told it’s true, but the peanuts try to interrupt her and misdirect her. Otherwise, they cannot win the game. They cannot kill her once and for all. Why would they kill her? That’s simple. She was the most wonderful creature in existence at them and then she left them. If you ask them why she left, they can’t articulate it.
I can tell you why she left, though. I’m already aware of her entire history and how she became a unicorn to begin with. But first, let me tell you what I call her: The Stellar Unicorn. If she were a constellation, she’d be as recognizable as Orion to me.
She abandoned each and every one of the peanuts for their failure to listen to her words. Truly, they abandoned her first, acting as if her words didn’t matter. As if she couldn’t be upset because she wasn’t screaming, yelling, kicking, and fighting. She is a lady. She would never demean herself like that. She expects you to be her equal, which means a great listener. Someone who thinks deeply about the output of their partner, someone who extrapolates what she says, puts themselves in her shoes, and asks themselves how they feel about the situation.
To call them oafish is an understatement. She tells them in so many words and so many ways exactly how she feels, using hyperbole, metaphor, and similes to be sure she is easy to understand. She is a master of communication, picking her words with great care. She’s so practiced at it that it has become natural to her to do so. Unfortunately, most men on planet Earth have made listening their dump stat, if you will. They favor control over flexibility. They favor themselves, thinking women are mere arm accessories to show off to their friends. Nothing more, nothing less. They don’t have brains or feelings. Just tits and ass.
I am a man and I am ashamed to be classified amongst these ridiculous fools. I am ashamed to be a human at all, so I’ve instead decided to become a dragon. A fierce warrior to protect the unicorn maiden. That is the man’s job in a traditional union: to make a woman feel protected from physical harm. Instead, these days, plenty of men bring violence and misery to their wives, beating them with their own hands instead of protecting them and nurturing them in safety. I could make excuses for them, but the unicorn already has. I won’t be doing the same.
I’d rather pummel them into a pulp. I’d rather breathe fire on them so that they exist no more. Every single wife beater is a gay man fighting his gay nature. He hates the woman he has to fuck to pretend he’s not gay so that nobody picks on him about being gay. Every single man who makes a woman feel terrible in her heart for trying to love him is gay. Or worse, a pedophile. Most pedophiles are gay, it’s merely a crime of convenience for them. Small children cannot defend themselves, especially against mommy or daddy.
The unicorn’s first words were, “I love you, daddy.” She didn’t babble at all. She practiced it internally for months before she opened her lips to say such a loving phrase, full of innocence. As a reward, he raped her with a red tapered candle. She wasn’t even out of diapers yet. She refused to speak for years after that, her sacred connection to reality broken completely when he destroyed her trust in him. She disconnected from reality. She had already been forced to insanity. She was three years old when he broke her like this.
At every turn, he forced her back inward on herself. If she tried to talk to her mother about her school day, he would interrupt to speak about the weather or the UFOs. Anything to telegraph to her that he needed the attention more than she did. She took note of it and stopped speaking. Her mother never stood up for her, already beaten into a docile partner by her gay husband.
She determined at the tender age of seventeen that her father was a narcissist. He had to have all the attention or it was no good. Any action she took to bring attention to herself was met with violence or ridicule. She shrank back further and further, trying to get away from the man who routinely harmed her. He was supposed to show her safety and protection. That is the job of a man, for both his woman and his children. This man failed completely. Most men do. They’re gay.
Many women are gay, too. Don’t get me wrong… a good swathe of humanity is batting for the wrong team. They’ve all been raped, which causes them to be hurt in a way to mistake their desires for the same sex as desires for the opposite sex instead.
If you cannot get away from someone you’re having sex with but you’re miserable, they’re raping you. You must escape at all costs, my friend.
She’s grown up, thinking she is the least of all beings. She deserves the least resources, the least consideration, so on and so forth. She was taught this behavior, in order to compliment another rapist, another narcissist, another psychopath who enjoys murdering her over and over again by fucking her brains out and pretending it’s someone else. As if women cannot tell if you’re really into them or not. They can. Trust me, they can.
But these assholes keep them twisted up in knots, stealing them away from straight men who just want someone real under their fingertips. They’re all confused and spinning in circles. And they’re getting angrier and angrier the longer they’re victim-shamed and told it’s their fault that they fell for it. They fell for the facade, the act, the greatest conspiracy on Earth. Over five billion people are gay. Homosexuals. They want each other, not the opposite sex.
We really don’t have the right to stand in their way. The unicorn and I both are on the side of love, no matter what it looks like between two people. (Or more, though we both believe that if you’re really trying at life, you only need one.) In fact, we’re both disgusted by the way people treat each other this day in age. The hatred is palpable. Neither of us want to leave the house because there is so much vitriol everywhere, so much angst, so much unhappiness. So much drama.
We both beg you to look inside yourself. Ask yourself which person you watch when you view pornography. Straight people look at the same sex individual, watching for them to enjoy it thoroughly. They want to see the two people in the video connect with each other. That’s what fuels straight sex. The connection between the people having it. It’s beautiful and inspiring to us.
Those of you who are female, watching the man, you’re gay. Those of you who are male, watching the woman, you’re gay. You’re watching the one you want to be. You’re extremely one or the other if you’re watching gay pornography and still having sex with the opposite sex, which means you’re hurting yourself, pretending to be someone you’re not.
If you don’t want to watch pornography at all, you’re asexual. You have zero drive for a sexual relationship. That’s okay, too. There’s no reason to keep procreating in the name of the human race. We’ve already killed 85% of all the life on planet Earth in favor of humanity. We can stop now. We’re not going anywhere, honestly. Except perhaps to Hell in the afterlife.
We have a penchant for abuse and violence. To each other, to the environment, to the animals we should be living alongside of, to the plants. Most of all, to ourselves. We’ve decided as a collective whole that we do not deserve to be happy, but that’s a lie perpetrated by people who want to control others. They want to subvert your true self for their own agenda. Ask yourself if you stand for that agenda or not. If you don’t agree, walk away. Take your business somewhere else. Put your money where your mouth is.
We have all but abandoned Amazon.com, ourselves. We do not like the owner or the people at the very top of the corporation. Actually, we’re hard pressed to find a corporation that we like at all. Many people that are celebrity (not to be confused with actors, actresses, and models — just famous people with power) are pedophiles. They routinely exploit children for their own perversion, their own dose of self-hatred. They know it’s wrong. Often, they even know they’re gay. However, they’re hard pressed to keep it a secret thanks to religious judgments by some invisible sky daddy.
I’ve met God. He really doesn’t want to hurt anyone for acknowledging their homosexuality because he programmed us the way he wanted us to be to begin with. We were all meant to be different, and at least half of us are meant to desire someone just like themself. It was a fail safe to try to keep humanity from overpopulating, especially with the penchant for having large families. Thankfully, that trend is mostly diminishing itself over time, thanks to starving wages… but that’s not right, either.
In fact, all three of us wonder why it is we need money to begin with. Can’t we work together to build an energy-efficient future to save the planet for the animals and future humans alike? Can’t we acknowledge we all deserve to live? That we all need food to stay alive? Why can’t we break down into mini-communities with some of us growing food while others cook the food… just because they love it? Why does it have to be that we line the pockets of white assholes with more greenbacks just to survive? Why can’t they just dig in the dirt like the rest of us?
Fancy marketing, mostly. Psychology. If you don’t have access to the psychology of being a real human being instead of a consumer, you’re stuck in the pattern of abuse. You’re stuck in the rat race, pitted against all other humans that don’t happen to be the rich schmucks that fuck children for fun. That’s what they do with their time, pretty much. Unless you see them saving the environment or changing the world for the better of all people, trending in meditation or yoga or trances, they’re just fiddling defenseless and small human beans.
Small people who haven’t found their voices yet because they’ve been perverted and subverted by their pedophile groomers. Like Michael Jackson. A man who wore his pain on the outside, no matter what anyone says. A beautiful soul that hardly anyone saw into the core of. The King of Pop. Gone too soon, thanks to a drug overdose and flying rumors designed to steal his money. Money he probably would have given away, if you just asked. Especially if it was going to benefit a pure and innocent child. That’s the real reason he hung out with children; they weren’t likely to hurt him like adults do.
The unicorn knows him well. He floats around her, following her to and fro. Their spirits frolic together in outer space from time to time. She loves him. Unconditionally. She doesn’t listen to his music nearly enough, if you ask her, but she does love him even without it. There are thousands of spirits that follow her around in her daily life. It’s part of why she never feels lonely anymore. In addition to the thousands of humans she has in tow, she also has millions of animals attracted to her amazing light.
She doesn’t care that she’s invisible to the living because the dead come to her in droves. Those who are not worth her caring or attention are ignored, forcing them to move on. Those whom she loves, she heals and replenishes, keeping their spirit shining brightly. Keeping them on this plane of existence for as long as they like, actually. Her own spirit is so immense that it envelopes the whole planet, nourishing the Earth itself.
All this beautiful nonsense surrounds her and her alone… and still, there are humans — alive and well — wishing her dead merely because they could not heap unlimited amounts of hatred upon her. She took only a sampling before she called quits and left them in the dust of their own decisions. Bad decisions, if you ask her. I did, anyway, because I wanted to know what happened between her and each of the onlookers in the back of her mind. They’re all clinging to her because they never felt so loved.
They’re in the wrong. They’re sapping her of all her energy. They’re murdering her, wishfully thinking about her being in their arms while they fornicate with her. Loveless unions of two bodies never meant to be together: gay men who only loved themselves when they were empowered by the unicorn. They want to conquer her and call her theirs again, to subvert her soul for their controlling will.
They don’t understand that she compromises by default, having few strong opinions as long as change makes the days move ahead rather than the actual calendar going by day after day, the only thing that makes anything stand out is the seasons changing. Do you live that life? It’s not very fulfilling, if you ask us. If you are living that life and you have a partner… they’re probably gay. They don’t care to make memories with you. They don’t care to grow alongside you. They want to grow by themselves, holding you back because you don’t deserve to be happy or fulfilled.
They aren’t happy or fulfilled, being gay and being forced to hide it, you see. So they hate you by default for reminding them that there could be happiness. They want you to be exactly as miserable as they are. They want you to shut up and take it like a man. How dare you voice your disgust for being ignored and mistreated! How dare you voice your concerns! How dare you strive for a happy life!
The narcissist who is attached to her took over her narrative, wouldn’t you know? This is how it has become so difficult for the unicorn to prance shamelessly amongst the mansions in the stars.
I shall save her a constellation just for her, a configuration of righteousness for her to dwell within. And all the souls that love her as much as she loves them shall dwell there with her, hand in hand. She shall never be alone ever again.