Vincente's Soliloquy
Written by Haven Hudson.
(CONTENT WARNING FOR IMPLIED ABUSE)
From the moment I was crafted, there was nothing to bring me to life.
But from the moment I felt your hands envelop me, my eyes opened for the first time.
My first thought was “Who are you?” the moment you embraced me so tenderly.
Such a contrast to the mild cruelty I face now.
You were always careless with what you’ve done. From the drooling, being torn in half by a dog, taped to the grille of your truck, a soldier in the frontlines. I could list a thousand things that you have put me through.
You have a tendency to jump in with reckless abandon. You let the consequences bite you in the ass, no matter how big they are. Your life is a never-ending joyride, sometimes spinning out of control and getting stuck in a ditch.
That’s when other people come in to help you out, only for you to do it all over again.
And yet, I am conflicted. You made sure to bathe me most days in the morning when you were small. You went out of your way to stitch me back together when I was in pieces. Just when I thought you were in it for the sick pleasure of my death, you make me whole again.
You enjoy wicked schadenfreude inflicted on those deserving, but I still think you’re a sadist.
I have my own qualms about mortality. I probably won’t die as long as I’m intact. But you are not a stuffed animal. You don’t have ice cream and cotton for insides. Sometimes, a running stitch won’t undo the damage done to human flesh.
I don’t know if this is from a place of deep-seeded love or plain selfishness.
But I worry that you would do something that ends up being your downfall.
I guess what I mean is… I don’t want to lose the hands that made me open my eyes.
© 2021-2024 Oriana Hernandez and Max Stephens
Vincente's Soliloquy
Written by Haven Hudson.
(CONTENT WARNING FOR IMPLIED ABUSE)
From the moment I was crafted, there was nothing to bring me to life.
But from the moment I felt your hands envelop me, my eyes opened for the first time.
My first thought was “Who are you?” the moment you embraced me so tenderly.
Such a contrast to the mild cruelty I face now.
You were always careless with what you’ve done. From the drooling, being torn in half by a dog, taped to the grille of your truck, a soldier in the frontlines. I could list a thousand things that you have put me through.
You have a tendency to jump in with reckless abandon. You let the consequences bite you in the ass, no matter how big they are. Your life is a never-ending joyride, sometimes spinning out of control and getting stuck in a ditch.
That’s when other people come in to help you out, only for you to do it all over again.
And yet, I am conflicted. You made sure to bathe me most days in the morning when you were small. You went out of your way to stitch me back together when I was in pieces. Just when I thought you were in it for the sick pleasure of my death, you make me whole again.
You enjoy wicked schadenfreude inflicted on those deserving, but I still think you’re a sadist.
I have my own qualms about mortality. I probably won’t die as long as I’m intact. But you are not a stuffed animal. You don’t have ice cream and cotton for insides. Sometimes, a running stitch won’t undo the damage done to human flesh.
I don’t know if this is from a place of deep-seeded love or plain selfishness.
But I worry that you would do something that ends up being your downfall.
I guess what I mean is… I don’t want to lose the hands that made me open my eyes.
© 2021-2024 Oriana Hernandez and Max Stephens
From the moment I was crafted, there was nothing to bring me to life.
But from the moment I felt your hands envelop me, my eyes opened for the first time.
My first thought was “Who are you?” the moment you embraced me so tenderly.
Such a contrast to the mild cruelty I face now.
You were always careless with what you’ve done. From the drooling, being torn in half by a dog, taped to the grille of your truck, a soldier in the frontlines. I could list a thousand things that you have put me through.
You have a tendency to jump in with reckless abandon. You let the consequences bite you in the ass, no matter how big they are. Your life is a never-ending joyride, sometimes spinning out of control and getting stuck in a ditch.
That’s when other people come in to help you out, only for you to do it all over again.
And yet, I am conflicted. You made sure to bathe me most days in the morning when you were small. You went out of your way to stitch me back together when I was in pieces. Just when I thought you were in it for the sick pleasure of my death, you make me whole again.
You enjoy wicked schadenfreude inflicted on those deserving, but I still think you’re a sadist.
I have my own qualms about mortality. I probably won’t die as long as I’m intact. But you are not a stuffed animal. You don’t have ice cream and cotton for insides. Sometimes, a running stitch won’t undo the damage done to human flesh.
I don’t know if this is from a place of deep-seeded love or plain selfishness.
But I worry that you would do something that ends up being your downfall.
I guess what I mean is… I don’t want to lose the hands that made me open my eyes.
© 2021-2024 Oriana Hernandez and Max Stephens
I have my own qualms about mortality. I probably won’t die as long as I’m intact. But you are not a stuffed animal. You don’t have ice cream and cotton for insides. Sometimes, a running stitch won’t undo the damage done to human flesh.
I don’t know if this is from a place of deep-seeded love or plain selfishness.
But I worry that you would do something that ends up being your downfall.
I guess what I mean is… I don’t want to lose the hands that made me open my eyes.
© 2021-2024 Oriana Hernandez and Max Stephens
© 2021-2024 Oriana Hernandez and Max Stephens