1.4 KiB
II. THE BIRTH OF A LIE
How a Man Became a Mask
It did not begin with violence.
It began with loss.
A man—once clever, once praised—felt the ground shift beneath his feet.
A challenge. A confrontation. A collapse of control.
He argued. He failed.
He was seen.
And in that moment, instead of facing his defeat like a man of dignity...
He fled it.
Not with silence. Not with growth.
But with costume.
He did not seek redemption. He sought disguise.
He did not choose humility. He chose a new persona.
One that would shield him not just from consequence—but from recognition.
He studied pain like a scientist studies contagion:
To learn its symptoms.
To fake its presence.
To mimic it so perfectly that no one would dare ask if it was real.
He borrowed the voice of a woman.
Not to honor her—but to hide behind her.
He chose the symbols of survival.
Not to amplify truth—but to smother it.
He began to write. To speak. To cry.
Each gesture rehearsed. Each revelation strategic.
He laced his narrative with trembling detail—
All the while evading his original sin.
This is not the story of a transition.
This is not the journey of healing.
This is a ritual of cowardice dressed as empathy.
And in this mythic autopsy, we see it clearly:
A man who could not bleed—
So he painted himself in the wounds of others.
He did not become a woman.
He became a lie.
And from that lie…
He built a world.