On Saturday and Sunday, while my future co-adulterator was otherwise engaged (what could be more important to him than me? And no, we have not yet progressed beyond intensely sordid mutually masturbatory camming sessions), I found time to do some reading. While researching into the Industrial Revolution, I happened upon a cunningly cyphered diary entry from 1784, a period in which great engineering advancements were being made. The remarkable thing is, it is written by a woman, and a woman hitherto unknown to us. Of course, as history is written by men, it records only the men who invented, experimented, and created, while the women - and there surely were women - have slowly been erased from the collective consciousness. The entry - entitled 'Parallel lives' by the original author - is incredibly personal, intensely touching, and extremely candid. I attach it below for your perusal, along with a helpful explanatory diagram and brief introductory note. However, before you proceed, please bear in mind the adult nature of much of the text; as I hinted above, it is remarkably candid for its time.
Parallel lives
History records that a certain celebrated eighteenth century inventor and engineer was an only child. However, recent cataloging of previously unseen family documents has unearthed a hitherto unknown diary of one who appears to be his younger sister. Though written in a complex secret cypher, I have successfully de-coded several tracts, the most illuminating of which appears below.
January 14th, 1784
After turning down the oil lamps, I trod carefully across my makeshift workshop, eager anticipation beating in my breast, brass turnings skitterIng across the bare blackened boards. The wait had been torturous, yet the moment fast approached. Though my attic room is sufficiently distant from the house's busy centre, I had postponed the trial till now, held back testing my apparatus till I could be certain I had total solitude. The coldness, dankness, and darkness of a midwinter's Sunday evening should form no deterrent for a devout household such as this, and so it transpired: without exception, and as usual, the entire household - family and servants alike - were attending the kirk. Unexceptionally, and as usual, I was left alone.
By the flickering light, the mechanism gleamed a pale ghostly yellow. Though simple enough in its construction and design, each part was painstakingly wrought, accurate beyond measure, an apposite reflection of my family's scientific and engineering renown. If only my brother could have seen it! I fancied I could hear the excitement fizzing, bubbling in his throat, threatening to burst through his famous hushed brogue even as he gazed in wonder. 'Oh, Jane! What a marvel you have created!' Yet he would surely never utter those words and thus must never see it. Never even know of it. The shame would be more than I could stand, more than he could possibly bear, outstripping even the shame I already bring to our lineage.
James is a genius. His work with steam engines has brought him great fame and even greater fortune. Taking an inefficient, barely serviceable contraption as a starting point, he has revolutionised the mining industry, created a pumping engine of greater efficiency than anyone would have believed. They are instruments of incredible beauty, of almost God-like power. Meanwhile, he has reinvented himself, become refined and upright, a man who can step into the loftiest social circles and be amongst equals. The love I feel for him is barely believable; a passion almost beyond decency.
I, on the other hand, though blessed with a mind as quick, insightful and malleable as his, am disfigured, twisted, a creature unfit to be seen. Though shown a degree of kindness and patience by my God-fearing parents, I have been locked away from humanity, hidden in this cold corner of their otherwise welcoming home, an oddity, an embarrassment. Invisible. Unwanted. Unloved. To keep me quiet, unobtrusively occupied, they allow me books, tools, materials, indeed almost all I desire, though the thing I desire the most they would never allow me. A man. I want a man. A man to love me, care for me, to come to me in the night and bare me, enter me, and make me his. Make me whole. My heart aches for it. My broken body yearns for it.
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