Images
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"You are spiked and barbed. It is as if you are built that way on purpose, so that the slightest breeze can blow you about and catch you up on some future love."
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<figure>
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<img src="/monologue.png" alt="Every eye that catches yours is the most beautiful thing of all time...">
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<figcaption>Art by <a href="https://irisjay.net" target="_blank">Iris Jay</a>.</figcaption>
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</figure>
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The skunk had been sitting on a barstool, hunched over a pint and slurring half to the glass, half to some absent bartender. She slid to her feet, wobbled for a moment, then righted herself.
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"Actually, you know what? I have heard it said so many times that to hate --- truly hate, burn up inside with that passion --- is to actually be in love with the object of your hatred, but I think there is a little bit of hatred in love, too. You fall so completely for someone that you just cannot help but resent them. It is a mirror of that hatred for yourself, for all your jagged edges and prickly burrs, a reflection of the resentment that you feel towards yourself for having been built to love. And look at me!" She gestured down at herself, a grand sweep of the paw outsized in her intoxication. "I fuckin' loathe myself! Can you imagine how deeply I must love others, then?"
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