Some years ago a curse was placed upon me. The person who cursed me, who damned me to a hell beyond the imaginings of even Clive Barker or Jonas Mekas, was most likely not aware that they had placed a curse upon me, and if they were, they did not realize the severity of their actions.
The curse affected every aspect of my life, especially how I interact with women. In effect, the curse cut off my manhood. Not literally, but figuratively.
Last night as I sat pondering the universe and my place in it I was suddenly overwhelmed by the memory of the night I was cursed. It had been years since I had thought of the incident, but it came back to me with a lucid clarity that was terrifying.
After a few minutes of reliving in my mind the events that led to the curse being placed upon me, and the actual moment I was cursed, the means to break the curse was made evident.
So I did it. I did what was necessary to break the curse.
It worked.
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