solanas invictus

You arrest their development and make them supply all of your needs, emotional, sexual, sometimes even finantially, while stopping them from fulfilling theirs.

You model someone into being your mother, father, lover, family, friends while denying them of living their own life. And because you are spoiled at every need, being immature and childish at the expense of someone else's who besides everything, you made entirely dependent on you.

You successfully invert a caretaker situation where you posit yourself as a child in need of care and them, as the caretaker who must soften every adult life's blow. All while they're younger, less experienced and in general, unsuited for managing their lives let alone yours, so you basically put them up for an impossible task.

Ah! And because they're dependent on you, they feel like failures for not carrying it out perfectly.

"It’s all there in Modelland, and it’s all off.

A type of art I love is that of ‘Outsider Art’. My favourite art museum is that of the American Visionary Art Museum in Baltimore, which I’ve been to a few times and is dedicated to this category. It’s a broad and loose category, one that carries certain connotations, not all of them innately positive: Outsider Art is art by the self-taught and untrained, those who exist often ‘outside’ the world of ‘traditional’ art. Depending on how thin you slice the meaning of Outsider Art, it could be anyone who doesn’t have an art degree; At that level, the term loses all meaning.

An older, unrecognizable person was staring at Tookie. It had a boil growing on its nose, letting out a smoke that smelled of rotten eggs and animal droppings. Much of its hair had fallen out in clumps, and many of the hanging strands had fused together into what looked like chunks of petrified wood. Its eyes were bruised, swollen nearly shut, and its ears were swollen into what looked like bulbs of cauliflower.

[…]

Everyone in the room screamed, their faces melting and warping just like Tookie’s was.

Piper’s skin was so raw it was transparent. Her blood was visible, pumping wildly through her face. She resembled a skeleton with muscles and veins, with a thin layer of clear plastic keeping it all together.

Dylan’s ponytails had completely fallen out and she was cradling them in her arms. Her nose had become detached from her face and was sitting on top of the bed of hair. Shiraz’s grapefruit-sized eyes bulged and bulged like they were about to pop out of her head. The spot where the ruby had been on Kamalini’s SMIZE was now a gaping hole four inches wide, exposing her brain. Angelîka’s ZipZap head injury had split open wide from the top of her head to the base of her neck. When she screamed, her exposed vocal cords, which lay in a spaghetti-like tangle at her throat, vibrated.

“My heads hurt so much!” both sides of Angelîka cried. Even Zarpessa and Chaste looked like mutants, their noses falling off and their lips turning into slugs.