Fri 5 Dec, 2008
If he could replace his skin, remould his bones and replant his hair, would he stand a chance? Could he then get her?
He could carry his brain forward, but it probably wouldn’t work well. Old habits die hard. If he couldn’t get her as he was now, it didn’t seem probable that he could get her with the same neurons. No, even the brain would need reconstruction. Wait. In which case, wouldn’t that make him an entirely different person, with new hatred, jealousy, violence, and cruelty? What good would it make then? In fact, it felt worse that an entirely new him – completely unrelated – could get her while he couldn’t. It made his present existence more pathetic. The thought of another man grabbing her by the waist and deeply frenching her was too much to bear. He felt his heart wrenched from its place, and a sharp pain.
He toyed briefly with the idea of rectifying all the mistakes he had made – he would be more understanding toward her detachment, more expressive with his love, more seductive in his advances – and inevitably a new man appeared in his mind, the wretched man who just tongued her. He socked himself hard in the jaw to take away the pain.
It wouldn’t work. If he couldn’t redeem himself as he was, then there was no hope. Not even the remote possibility of transforming himself, before or after.
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