Too Sweet — A Letter to My Papa

I have a confession to make, and it is one of those that I would never tell anyone but you, Papa. If another soul were to read this, they would probably think I need to seek professional help. But I know that you won’t, for you always promised you would protect me.

I hate domestic animals.

I really do.

I know everyone loves them, and during my younger, more clueless years, I tried to push myself to be the same. I didn’t know better. But I am here now, ready to admit the truth to you. I am simply not a pet person. I have no allergies to them or any such thing. I just don’t like them. I’m extraordinarily good at pretending I do, but I don’t.

Out of all domestic animals, there are some that stand out to me. Dogs in particular I find very stimulating, aside from the whole ‘Loving best friend’ propaganda about them that is exhausting. As time goes by, it seems like there are more of them everywhere one looks, doesn’t it?

You know these tiny fluffy dogs that look incredibly adorable but somehow manage to be the loudest and most belligerent? One just wants to give them a good kick to shut them up. Have you seen how some of them are getting dressed up by their owners and put in baby pushchairs and whatnot? Just writing it right now made me roll my eyes so hard, they almost fell out my eyeballs. As for the adults who call them ‘my baby’? Enough already! For goodness sake, get it together!

You should see people centre their whole existence around these tiny creatures, their ‘babies’, that would be nothing more than perfect dinner in another part of the world (I’m not putting China on the spot here).

Why would one want to be so emotionally invested in a thing? I am usually sitting nearby watching them be loving, accommodating and supportive of each other, trying my hardest not to blurt out, ‘How pathetic…’

All I care about is what domestic animals can do for me. If they can’t be put to good use, then I want nothing to do with them. That’s where I have to admit that dogs are very useful. I exploit them all the time. Yes, I said that I hated domestic animals——not that I was unable to profit from something I hate. Indeed, I collect dogs and regularly milk them for all I need. They make my life a paradise.

The bitter side of me has finally found the courage to challenge the sweeter; it is ready to rise to the occasion. I have decided to face the darkness inside me that I have suppressed my whole life. A darkness that you have tried to control——and successfully did for a while.

It can’t be said I’m an early bird
It’s ten o’clock before I say a word
Baby, I can never tell
How do you sleep so well?

‘Too Sweet’ is a record by Hozier from his 2024 EP: Unheard. It’s a fascinating amalgamation of Rock, Folk and Retro Soul. Its gripping bass and punchy drums are sprinkled with an unrelenting groove that makes you appreciate the art of thorough, thoughtful music composition. But it’s how the artist manages to layer such a tough sound with romantically colourful lyrics that makes it truly stand out to me. When I commenced my writing of this confession to you, this song began knocking at my eardrums, begging to make an apparition.

I knew you would like it. You were the one who detected and nurtured my love for music from a very young age, after all. I also know that it takes a lot to keep you engaged, so I decided to bribe your attention with ‘Two Sweet’ so you’d read this letter until the end. I do not doubt that it’ll work, not because of the song in itself, for there are better ones suited for your taste out there. But rather because you’d be proud that I made a calculated move to make you bend to my will. I suppose all the hard work you put in ploughing the field that is my soul is finally yielding its fruit. Well done, Papa.

A Sweet Reward

For all the contempt I have for these domestic animals, it is amazing how they absolutely adore me. Why? I do not know. Well, I do know: I am a magnet, and they can’t resist my enthralling allure. Dogs readily seek to be in my presence; they are pulled to me and want to do the same pathetic sentimental things they do with others with me. I will put up with it to a certain extent, only so I can keep extracting what I need from them.

As they approach me, I activate my ‘dog talk’ and subtly tell their subconscious, ‘I’m about to abuse you, but don’t worry, I’ll make you feel so good whilst doing it that you will soon be asking me for more. Make sure you behave and don’t you ever dare blame me for it.’ They always get the message. So I put on my best smile and rub them all over, as they enthusiastically circle me, and eagerly stretch themselves out to enjoy my velvety touch and the intoxicating effects of my fondling. I love that reaction from them. But what I love more than the reaction alone is the fact that I am the one causing it. It confirms my superiority. It establishes my control over their souls. It proves my power.

I love the vehemence of the admiration and attention they lavish me with——no other creature does it quite like them, and no other being can provoke that reaction from them like me. I also love making them chase their tails with bewilderment. I’ll gladly give them mixed signals and contradictory commands so I can watch their minds slowly disappear under an avalanche of confusion. I can’t get enough of the defeated look on their faces when I lash out at them, and the cries of agony when I give them the regular kick that puts them back in their place. It entertains me. It amuses me. It fuels me.

I may be enjoying this confession a little too much, Papa. The darkness is too enticing, and it’s whispers of promised euphoria too compelling. I’m tired of pretending.

You keep telling me to live right
To go to bed before the daylight
But then you wake up for the sunrise
You know you don’t gotta pretend, baby, now and then

A Sweet Reminder

It is important to emphasise that these dogs that love me (i.e. all of them) are not all the same. Their differences are especially noticeable once I start kicking them around. It’s quite interesting, and it lights up my mind with intrigue. ‘How is this one going to respond?’ I muse. I have had so much practise now that I have classified them into three types of reactions.

The Mountainclimber: They are those dogs who will take my kicks as if climbing a mountain. It gets more difficult to endure the pain, but they take it and come back for more, albeit weaker than before. Their strength decreases continuously, but the difficulty doesn’t discourage them from wanting to reach the top of the mountain——that’s just how much they love me. Eventually, they run out of energy and supplies. At which point, I have to get rid of them. They’re of no use to me now, so on to the next.

The Cliffhanger: They are those dogs who endure my kicks steadily. Nothing can discourage them. They take a dozen kicks on one cheek, jump around triumphantly for having received what they knew they deserved, and then show me the other cheek. My favourite masochists. They don’t share in the mountain-climber’s melodramatic decline of vigour and depletion of supplies. They are reliable, stable and extremely productive appliances for a long time——until they aren’t.

They strode ahead on the levelled and smooth ground of my enchanting world, until they fell off a cliff they hadn’t seen. They clung to the cliff’s edge, hanging on for dear life, but their arms eventually failed them. It’s often the case that one day, I realise they haven’t come to prostrate themselves before me to receive their usual beating. So I decide to check on them, to find them collapsed and unable to function. What can I say? ‘Oops!’

The Landslider: Ah, you defiant dogs, who revel in challenging me. I know I said that the Cliffhangers were my favourites, but you are. You are audacious, and contrary to your comrades above, you do indeed bite. Oh, and how I love when you do! You can’t just take the kicks lying down, can you? The road towards dilapidating you of your essence is always ridden with landslides.

You never allow me to glide through your being on my way to the complete conquest of your soul. No, you have to fight back, bite back, and turn the rocks anchored to the edges of my feet into dust. I relish the challenge of seeking new rocks to replace the old and devising new ways to pin you down and kick you harder than before. I never beg, but today, I give you the honour of someone such as myself begging you. Yes, I beg you to keep playing my game on my playground. When will you learn?

I am seriously scaring myself right now, Papa. Sometimes the darkness inside me defeats the light. It overcomes my thoughts and desires until the version of me that is fighting on the other side to stay alive becomes too sweet to be allowed inside.

Don’t you just wanna wake up, dark as a lake?
Smelling like a bonfire, lost in a haze?
If you’re drunk on life, babe, I think it’s great
But while in this world

I think I’ll take my whiskey neat
My coffee black and my bed at three
You’re too sweet for me
You’re too sweet for me

Am I?

I know that’s what you’ve always believed, Papa.

Too Sweet

I know everything I wrote above is what you’d want me to confess to you, Papa. Throughout my whole life, you have tried to possess me. I ardently fought you but never stood a chance——until I peered beneath the surface of the man I idolised but could not realise was nothing more than an empty visage built to keep up a façade.

I have silently endured your relentless attempts to mutate my soul into something that could think and act only as you dictated. You didn’t need me to be exactly like you, not at all. Instead, you needed me to embrace that darkness just enough to push myself to sacrifice my soul in exchange for bearing the yoke of your legacy.

Do you remember that winter morning? The sun had not yet risen when you summoned me to your study.

‘Your gentle heart is a gift to humanity, Ma Princess. I know you think I am being hard on you for having given it away, but I only want what’s best for you and this family. Don’t you want that, too?’ You asked.

‘Papa, Sophie needed it! I didn’t ask you for a new allowance. I gave mine away, and I’m able to finish the rest of the month without any. Helping others is also good for family, Papa.’ I replied, determined not to break under the pressure. We had been at it for about a quarter hour by then. You were the one who taught me to fight back when people tried to walk all over me, so you only had yourself to blame for my strong will.

‘But you can’t let your emotions and kindness rule over you. You are naturally radiant, inviting and charming. People are drawn to you. I know that’s why Sophie came to you for help instead of all your other friends. I’m not asking you to be a bad person, Ma Princess. Indeed, if you lose your sweetness, you’ll also lose all of those qualities that make you special, and I don’t want that. But sometimes you’re too sweet for my liking. How many times have I told you this?’

‘Louis is also very sweet, but you never tell him he’s too sweet. I like that about him. I like it when he is kind to me, and he shares his things with me.’

‘He is your twin, so it is understandable that you love him very much, but you are not Louis. You are different, special——Louis isn’t. Leave him be. You must learn to control your sweet soul. I want you to learn how to use it to get people to do what you want, just like Papa has learned. You are gifted at understanding people——’

‘Louis understands others, too. He understands me, Papa!’

‘Never talk back to Papa. Ever,’ you snapped, in a dark, intimidating tone.

‘I… S-Sorry.’ I faltered.

‘Sorry, who?’

‘Sorry, Papa.’

‘Fix that face. Chin up! Good. You are not Louis. You needn’t act like him. He is a weak boy, but you aren’t weak,’ you said, before switching back to your silky charming voice. ‘You are made of very stern stuff, Ma Princess. I see it in you every day. You are the apple of my eye, you know that, right?’

‘Yes, Papa.’

‘Very well. If you do as I say, you can be certain that Papa will always be there to protect you. Don’t you want that?’

‘Yes, I do. I don’t want you to be angry with me, Papa. Please forgive me for talking back to you. I am sorry I keep talking about Louis, it’s just that——’

You gave me a threatening look of disapproval.

‘Nothing. Sorry,’ I conceded.

‘Good. Papa can show you how to use your natural tenderness to seize opportunity; to get what you want from people. It’s not a bad thing to do, you know. All adults do it all the time; it’s nothing new. That’s what the grown-up world is made of, and I need to prepare you for that world. If you learn this, Sophie will soon be the one giving you her allowance, every month if you require it, and no one will think you’re evil for taking it. Indeed, they won’t even notice what’s happening. Do you want Papa to teach you?’ Asked the Machiavellian.

‘I aim low
I aim true, and the ground’s where I go
I work late, where I’m free from the phone
And the job gets done, but you worry some, I know’ ——he added.

The child couldn’t understand what was being asked of her, nor could she clearly comprehend what he meant by all he said. The only certainty she had at that age was that her Papa cherished her and she couldn’t let him down. She was the apple of his eye, and had to do everything in her power to make him proud. He used his narc-craft to make sure she never lost sight of her primary objective in life: To prove herself worthy of all the love he poured out on her. The following month, two of her classmates gave her their full monthly allowance——and did so heartily.

Bewitched

You truly had me fooled. I have to give you credit for how well you bewitched me with your act those earlier years of my life——until you couldn’t any longer. You couldn’t take me to the next level of action in your Grand Scheme without showing me that you were, in fact, a devil masquerading as an Angel of Light.

You’re a callous soul burglar. If I still had any hate left in me against you, I’d be calling you names right now, but I’m elated to say that I don’t. Hence, I only have my congratulations to give you for all the ways you prosper in your cunning.

Five years ago, I came across a diagnosed narcissistic psychopath who provides the best knowledge about his kind online. He helped me see through you, and I am still learning from him today, and others. He is the reason why so much has changed between us over the past years. The irony is not lost on me that it took a man as cunning and manipulative as you to loosen your grip on me. Nothing else was able to cut it. The person who said to fight fire with fire was definitely onto something.

I used to feel as though my life was a huge joke written by narcissists, one relaying his pen to the next, as I watched from the sidelines, trying to anticipate the punchline. But I don’t feel that way any more. I am back in my Two Sweet era, Papa——to your detriment. And there’s nothing you could ever do to make me resent that side of me again.

I now understand that human beings are nothing more than glorified domestic animals and appliances to you. It took me some time to fully grasp and accept that you saw me not as a daughter, but as an animated, emotional piece of meat. I was merely a tool for the achievement of your Grand Scheme. But once I did assimilate this, it wasn’t hard to view the world from your perspective; that’s what made me stop resenting you for everything that you put me and the world through. There’s no point in doing so because how I feel about you will not change who you are and what you do. It’s an undue burden I have not been willing to bear for a while, and that I will never contemplate binding to my heart again.

Papa, I did not intend to write the confession at the beginning of this letter from me to you, but from you to me, our family, and the tens, hundreds, thousands, hundreds of thousands, millions and billions of people you influence from the shadows (oh, how you love those shadows) every day. Being the busy man you are, I knew you would never have the time to write such a confession yourself, so I volunteered to do so on your behalf. You know how I am——simply too sweet not to offer help to those in need. Therefore, I invite you to make a short edit of certain words, then read the text again.

Edit

Replace ‘Dog’ with ‘Empath’.
Replace ‘China’ with ‘Epstein Island’.

#

I hate domestic animals.

I really do.

I know everyone loves them, and during my younger, more clueless years, I tried to push myself to be the same. I didn’t know better. But I am here now, ready to admit the truth to you. I am simply not a pet person. I have no allergies to them or any such thing. I just don’t like them. I’m extraordinarily good at pretending I do, but I don’t.

Out of all domestic animals, there are some that stand out to me. Empaths in particular I find very stimulating, aside from the whole ‘Loving best friend’ propaganda about them that is exhausting. As time goes by, it seems like there are more of them everywhere one looks, doesn’t it?

You know these tiny fluffy empaths that look incredibly adorable but somehow manage to be the loudest and most belligerent? One just wants to give them a good kick to shut them up. Have you seen how some of them are getting dressed up by their owners and put in pushchairs and whatnot? Just writing it right now made me roll my eyes so hard, they almost fell out my eyeballs. As for the adults who call them ‘my baby’? Enough already! For goodness sake, get it together!

You should see people centre their whole existence around these tiny creatures, their ‘babies’, that would be nothing more than perfect dinner in another part of the world (I’m not putting Epstein Island on the spot here).

Why would one want to be so emotionally invested in a thing? I am usually sitting nearby watching them be loving, accommodating and supportive of each other, trying my hardest not to blurt out, ‘How pathetic…’

All I care about is what domestic animals can do for me. If they can’t be put to good use, then I want nothing to do with them. That’s where I have to admit that empaths are very useful. I exploit them all the time. Yes, I said that I hated domestic animals——not that I was unable to profit from something I hate. Indeed, I collect empaths and regularly milk them for all I need. They make my life a paradise.

A Sweet Reward

For all the contempt I have for these domestic animals, it is amazing how they absolutely adore me. Why? I do not know. Well, I do know: I am a magnet, and they can’t resist my enthralling allure. Empaths readily seek to be in my presence; they are pulled to me and want to do the same pathetic sentimental things they do with others with me. I will put up with it to a certain extent, only so I can keep extracting what I need from them.

As they approach me, I activate my ’empath talk’ and subtly tell their subconscious, ‘I’m about to abuse you, but don’t worry, I’ll make you feel so good whilst doing it that you will soon be asking me for more. Make sure you behave and don’t you ever dare blame me for it.’ They always get the message. So I put on my best smile and rub them all over, as they enthusiastically circle me, and eagerly stretch themselves out to enjoy my velvety touch and the intoxicating effects of my fondling. I love that reaction from them. But what I love more than the reaction alone is the fact that I am the one causing it. It confirms my superiority. It establishes my control over their souls. It proves my power.

But who wants to live forever, babe?
You treat your mouth as if it’s Heaven’s gate
The rest of you like you’re the TSA
I wish I could go along, babe, don’t get me wrong

I can’t go along, because I love the vehemence of the admiration and attention they lavish me with——no other creature does it quite like them, and no other being can provoke that reaction from them like me. I also love making them chase their tails with bewilderment. I’ll gladly give them mixed signals and contradictory commands so I can watch their minds slowly disappear under an avalanche of confusion. I can’t get enough of the defeated look on their faces when I lash out at them, and the cries of agony when I give them the regular kick that puts them back in their place. It entertains me. It amuses me. It fuels me.

A Sweet Reminder

It is important to emphasise that these empaths that love me (i.e. all of them) are not all the same. Their differences are especially noticeable once I start kicking them around. It’s quite interesting, and it lights up my mind with intrigue. ‘How is this one going to respond?’ I muse. I have had so much practise now that I have classified them into three types of reactions.

The Mountainclimber: They are those empaths who will take my kicks as if climbing a mountain. It gets more difficult to endure the pain, but they take it and come back for more, albeit weaker than before. Their strength decreases continuously, but the difficulty doesn’t discourage them from wanting to reach the top of the mountain——that’s just how much they love me. Eventually, they run out of energy and supplies. At which point, I have to get rid of them. They’re of no use to me now, so on to the next.

The Cliffhanger: They are those empaths who endure my kicks steadily. Nothing can discourage them. They take a dozen kicks on one cheek, jump around triumphantly for having received what they knew they deserved, and then show me the other cheek. My favourite masochists. They don’t share in the mountain-climber’s melodramatic decline of vigour and depletion of supplies. They are reliable, stable and extremely productive appliances for a long time——until they aren’t.

They strode ahead on the levelled and smooth ground of my enchanting world, until they fell off a cliff they hadn’t seen. They clung to the cliff’s edge, hanging on for dear life, but their arms eventually failed them. It’s often the case that one day, I realise they haven’t come to prostrate themselves before me to receive their usual beating. So I decide to check on them, to find them collapsed and unable to function. What can I say? ‘Oops!’

The Landslider: Ah, you defiant empaths, who revel in challenging me. I know I said that the Cliffhangers were my favourites, but you are. You are audacious, and contrary to your comrades above, you do indeed bite. Oh, and how I love when you do! You can’t just take the kicks lying down, can you? The road towards dilapidating you of your essence is always ridden with landslides.

You never allow me to glide through your being on my way to the complete conquest of your soul. No, you have to fight back, bite back, and turn the rocks anchored to the edges of my feet into dust. I relish the challenge of seeking new rocks to replace the old and devising new ways to pin you down and kick you harder than before. I never beg, but today, I give you the honour of someone such as myself begging you. Yes, I beg you to keep playing my game on my playground.

You know you’re bright as the morning, as soft as the rain
Pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape
If you can sit in a barrel, maybe I’ll wait
Until that day

I’d rather take my whiskey neat
My coffee black and my bed at three
You’re too sweet for me
You’re too sweet for me

When will you learn?

#

Warmest Regards,

Your caring, doting, and oh so sweet Landslider.

___________________

Banner image: ‘Never stop dreaming’ by Lucía Verdejo.