Misery (Short)

Misery caresses me yet again, and therein I ask, “to what pleasure do I owe the visit?”
“Pleasure?” she asked with an inquisitive, but also disgusted look.
“Preposterous!” the devil of my life announced.
Her nose turned skyward as she began to protest, waiving dainty hands in dismissal. And there, even though I could not see it, I knew with all of me that her eyes rolled at the satisfyingly irritable thought.
“You aren’t allowed anything but pain and sorrow. We shall find this pleasure, and then, root it out.”
Viewing her beauty first hand was difficult. Even as I gazed in awe her features became awash with an unbridled rage.
The sight was unbecoming.
While I cradled the last ounce of my happiness she tugged, harder than a dog unwilling to part with a favorite toy.
Finally the emotions tore from my grasp and I cringed. For it left scratches and a trail of blood where my fingers did not give, but rather the skin itself had.
I stared into her eyes, those tempting yet unsavory orbs. Wondering, watching my pleas with an unmerciful coldness.
“What have I done to deserve this?”
The stammering question found fit to pause her exit. Riveting and pulsating throughout her core she turned back smiling, a grin of callous glory.
“Why my dear man…” she started, voice steady and jingling with delight.
Her smile became a scowl of contempt.
“Because you exist.”
For a brief moment I hadn’t realized her answer, but only then, when it struck me no different than a heaven-sent bolt of lighting.
In that moment only then did I see the truth of her words.
I asked for this misery.
For it was the gift of life.

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