She Needed No Man

She needn’t any help in achieving this cherished goal of hers.

Especially from men.

That word instantly brought to her mind the image of hairy and disgusting creatures caring only about their tiny friends and women. Beautiful women. Easy-goer women. The ones that are easy to get laid with and leave like a mischievous politician leaves his election words unachieved, unaccomplished.

It might have been slightly better, if men’s desired triumphs in ladies were far longer, if you know what I mean, dear reader.

Nor needn’t she any help from women, of course.
 
Memories of her childhood flashed before her eyes. Loud cacophony both in her house and class. Elders, youngsters, peers dictating to her what she must, mustn’t, should and shouldn’t do. Never interested in how she is doing.

Unending feeling of emptiness worsened by the need to create. Write. Draw. Sing. Play.

The more abandoned she felt, the more indulged she was by her art and solitude. 
Solitude. Isolation. At first so undesired but then so much needed. Indeed, for her, art was one of the forms of communication implying expressing emotion, ideas to society around her and even overseas.

But who was willing to listen in the world where everyone only declares?

Glued glasses of ten million colors on their faces with no ability even to change the view. Never trying to leave their skyscraper-towers to get to somebody else’s; thus never seeing their own.

She struggled all by herself.
 
Hip-hop radio on YouTube kept chilling her boiling head as she furiously manipulated something, in convulsive way. Every movement of hers brought a strange feeling of mixed pain and pleasure.

By the way, she was single. 

And alone in her house.
 
Of course, in the world where woman is worshiped not only by masculines but as well by feminines, it is a very rare occasion to find the one ‘outcast away from life’s feast’. Needless to say, it was far more preferable to stay alone by yourself; not be dependent on someone else.

It was only her who could make herself happy. Not man. Nor woman. No human being.
 
As her struggle continued the flowerish aroma of her burning thriving body filled the whole room.

Her hands were aching like all she was touching was nothing but a metal crowbar dipped into voracious lava.

She kept moaning as she used the whole force of her body.

‘I need no one!’ — she carried on declaring in her rebellious mind and loudened the moan.

‘Must have been relationships’, ‘never have been acquaintances’ and, ‘supposedly, never will be connections' for a moment turned up in her mind when she finally reached the climax.

She made the best of her body.
 
Her cry reached before unknown limits.

And finally she opened the goddamn jar.