| An Ode to Uncle Rotter |  I feel sick. Filthy and violated, like something big, and hot, and dirty crawled inside me and is now slowly eating at my sense of decency and those last tattered rags of virtue left clinging to me.
And it feels good. So very good.
Uncle Rotter took me to places I never thought I wanted to go, and they weren't gentle either, but I went willingly, and I liked it.
Liked it so much I have come to crave it, like a priest craves choirboy love; I know it's wrong, that society frowns upon it, and that it will ultimately be my downfall, but I can't help myself. I need it.
I'm not alone. There are many more like me, formerly functional beings reduced to nothing more than sleaze junkies, travelling the country to meet in shady locations, far from our everyday worlds, to get our fix.
It's not right. I can see that, not so far gone down the path of addiction that I can't see that what I am doing goes against society, and Gods will, but I can't help myself.
And I don't want to.
I know you don’t understand. How could you, you’ve never been there, never felt the awesome power and heat of Uncle Rotter tearing through you, but you will.
You will see my words, and you will shake your heads and say "poor girl, what a shame" …but the seed has been planted, right there in your safe suburban living rooms, and it will grow.
You'll think about it at night, as you toss and turn in your beds unable to sleep, think about what it is to feel the way I feel…so satisfied, so fulfilled.
Soon it will start to eat at you as you wake, plague you all through the day. You’ll think about the emptiness and tedium of your lives, look at your spouse, and your dog, and your Volvo, and wonder how it came to this.
You'll think about me, the way this sickness and depravity makes me feel alive, and you’ll think maybe you should try it. Just once…just to see what it’s like. You won't get hooked, right?
Wrong.
And a part of you knows that. Won’t stop you, though. See you soon…
-Saila
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