It was one of those mornings again. You open your eyes and think something is different.
If I was beautiful...
But I wasn't. I knew I was a creep. I didn't even have to look in the mirror. It wasn't a case of 'she is beautiful and I'm not'. It wasn't actually a case of 'she'.
If you are a creep, there is no 'she'.
So I was a creep, but I got used to it through the years.
My childhood, naturally, was hard, as it's always hard for a frail soul to realize that he is a creep.
As I grew, my features as a creep got more and more apparent and obvious. Odd enough, my environment didn't find it sickening (as I normally did) but rather attractive; and even though I was the creepiest creep around, I was surrounded by 'shes'.
I did, however, see myself as I was, as I am now. I knew the truth and I never tried hiding it, but they didn't seem to care. I whispered words dripping with poison, soaked with verity into their ears, mouth and all over their bodies. I never missed a chance to tell them what I was; but then they just hugged me stronger, clinched on me and bit my neck. They called me a liar and kissed with passion.
They just didn't get it.
But what did I whisper? What was the poison? Anything, really. Me as a creep initially meant being completely indifferent towards them. So I normally complimented the features I disliked about them. If she was short, blonde, curvy or not, ugly or pretty, dumb or smart, didn't matter; I always chose the thing that annoyed me the most, and I kept on mocking it.
I guess it's easy to see how they didn't see that I was a creep. They loved that I love their least likeable features. They loved me no matter what. Oh, how naive they were! They never saw the creep toying with them, but the man taking good care and making them feel like a woman. This was my prize, dipped into perversion and forged by obsolescence. I already had hundreds of these trophies, but my hunger couldn't be satisfied, not even a bit.
I must admit though, that some of them did manage to penetrate my disguise.
They were the ones who knew that I was a creep. There were only three of them, all three differing from the other, all eager to love, but most importantly, to consume me.
I hated them. I lost my game from day one, the veil covering my true self was gone and I was exposed to their irresistible seductive powers.
I didn't kiss, hug, fuck, love or hate them; we did it, together. The creep within climbed to the surface, sunbathing in the beams of togethereness. I felt pathetic for letting it happen, but I was defeated. So when they were gone, and I was I again, I sank in the comfortable, fluffy fortress I had been building through my life, and I happily realized that it just got stronger and harder to overcome.
Those were the moments of pride, the moments of joy; when I got the joystick of my life back in my hands. And the game just went on, it still goes on; and I know that one day the disguise will be completed and I can declare that I'm the most gorgeous creep who ever walked this planet.
