I’m not allowed to cook something by myself today. It’s microwave caramels. The torture group is demanding I be supervised while I make these. Something about the boiling sugar strikes fear in their hearts. Their cold blackened hearts. They refuse to have me make the holiday treat without someone with me.
I get these restrictions on some things. Not every risky thing. I’m not allowed to drive anymore. I had a permit. I’ve driven plenty. I know how to drive. I’m just not allowed. In the same way I can’t have a big girl job I can’t do some things. The torture computer is prone to malfunction but not at the rate at which I’m restricted. The torture operator is playing it extremely safe.
There’s a method to the madness. Alone I am unobserved. I will rush. I will make hasty decisions. With a person present a completely different program runs the control of my body. This program follows the other person’s lead. If they show caution I will be cautious. The torture operator is avoiding accidents. It’s a good technique. Thank goodness I don’t live alone. And as an active torture victim I never will.