The Id in the Mirror She questioned his veracity. Not in terms of his sincerity, or his earnestness.
The Id in the Mirror She questioned his veracity. Not in terms of his sincerity, or his earnestness. She didn’t doubt that he meant the things that he said, or the actions that soon followed. No, instead she questioned his very being. He was too much of an id, too powerful a superego. He belonged more in the reflection of the mirror than with a hand cupping her cheek. In the most clichéd approximation, he was exactly what she wanted. Everything she aspired to, but more importantly the reflection of her, in a Yin-Yang kind of way. He was her Tyler Durden, only in this movie they got to fuck, and he got to pin her down by her indecision, nothing but decisive predatory nature gleaming in his eyes. She could do nothing but clamp down on his rock hard will. He preyed on her psyche in a way that was fraying at the ends. He was too much of a force of nature, and she was too much of a nervous wreck. She dressed for him, but it was his taste, and his orders, that made her do it. She was no more her own woman after his arrival than before, and that thought terrified her. That she might become more dependent, more desperate for another, than when she was alone and hugging herself, was too much to bear. And so she said goodbye to her man in the mirror. She exorcised him from her mind, scorched earth and salted ground. She decided, for once in her life, to make an affirmative action and cut him out entirely. Because she was lost in a fantasy, and you never have control in the dreams. She didn’t want to sleep through her life, no matter how pleasant the slumber might be. -- source link
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