Demand

Illustration for my series of books "Smoldering Hell", for the seventh book ("Smoldering Hell 7: Burning Paradise. 99 names of the Almighty" author.today/work/160832 ).
The whole series of books: author.today/work/series/11980

Graphics, stroke.

Ya. Composition is symbolism mixed with real events. I use the word "demand" here in an ironic way in the direction of myself.

Now there will be a revelation. Don't read it if you're not interested in me as a person.

So, those who have read the seventh book know this fact about me. "Transfestit! That's hilarious!" (c) Lucifug Rofokal. In general, it is.

Fetishistic transvestism, also known as crossdressing, is a type of sexual behavior in which sexual arousal or satisfaction is achieved by dressing up in clothes characteristic of the opposite sex. Is a kind of sexual fetishism (c) Wikipedia.
It can become an obstacle to normal sexual life or cause psychological suffering.

Yes, I feel sick. I've always hidden this feature, and no one would have found out about it if I hadn't miscalculated myself once (in the seventh book I'm just talking about it). It is shameful and painful to appear like this before a gathering of demonic ranks, who are simultaneously presented with ridicule in the face - they say, crazy! - and, at the same moment, they themselves show interest, lustful interest, that is, - after all, as Mustafar once said about me: "A man is not afraid that he dresses up as a wife. With such and it is necessary ... like with a wife."

And what do I need in a woman's outfit? What is it about it that when I put on a dress and paint my face, I feel a filthy delight - from a forbidden "trick", but from the fact that they lust after me like this? A man dressed up as a woman…

Envy?..

And I, as it turned out, envy women. Their... demand, exaltation on a pedestal by men... everything is for women, everything is spinning around women… They can be both fatal, and charming, and flirtatious, and they lose their heads from left to right… And who am I? Faggot. Yes, as usual, crazy. I have only ridicule and hatred. And I love myself like this, but at the same time and suffer unthinkably. From... what? From loneliness in my madness?.. From... outside dislike?.. From... shame?..

What I am experiencing, I managed to express very accurately in the lines of one of my songs, which have not yet been put to music:

"Languishing from the stench of merging souls,
Taking in
Outsider will,
I'm not a woman at all,
But no longer a man,

And something ridiculous,

That he will die of pain."

Something ridiculous. Perhaps it is. However, who decides this?.. After all, the personality is multifaceted, it is unthinkable, and trying to shove myself into a certain template, compressed to a shameful simplicity – isn't this a shame and insignificance?
And these, the ranks, just give a reason, in the meantime… I am always being chased, as well as any victim from our ranks – after all, demonic ranks are mainly aggressors. For those who are not familiar with socionics, I will try to explain it differently: there are hunters and prey, animals and victims. Archdemons are indeed often the same animals – invaders of territories, resources, distributors of their own influence, seeking to conquer everything that is possible for themselves – and WHO is possible, of course. Victims are those who are psychologically imprisoned under animals: provocateurs, unwittingly attracting their attention, or even craving that attention. I am a victim. And this is another reason to suffer. Not from the fact that I am constantly being hunted, no. Because my victimhood and my dignity, my masculinity, my will, which does not bend its knees before anyone, are fighting in me. From the fact that I admire the invaders, eternally longing to be the same as them - great, strong, full of true masculinity. And I... damn it.
But my role is different. And I love myself in this role.

This text is rather a reflection… I sit and think. As if I hadn't thought about it countless thousands of times before. What conclusion do I come to, burning from the fire of the heart in a personal hell?.. Yes, besides, as always:

Being normal is boring. And "normality" is an illusion of the masses.