Medusa

I met a Medusa once, and i made the mistake of looking into her eyes, touching her skin, and answering her questions. Of course, i fell into the abyss where i now realize not many men today would have emerged from as Ive done. So many lives she continues to despair and exploit, i ultimately have become the antithesis to everything she is. I am grateful i met her and wouldn't have it any other way. Perhaps i will never meet her again, but if i do, i will not hesitate to cut her down.
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Sometimes we have to learn the difficult way.

What doesn't kill you, makes...

Stay strong.

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Medusa is the ultimate b-tch to overcome; she is the nihilism of this infinite universe, the snakes coiling without end.

We gaze into her eyes and become paralyzed with fear, the fear of the meaninglessness of existence - the infinite vastness.

Perseus is the overman, the one who overcomes nihilism, slays it, and asserts his own meaning unto reality.

Another way to interpret the myth -- and a much more germane way for the context of the OP -- is as the masculine principle ( the warrior ) overcoming the feminine, the domineering feminine ( E.g. the bitch girlfriend ).

Depending on the subject's personality type, the inner battle with the projected Medussa can be one of the most inexhaustibly exhaustive initiatory variances in overcoming oneself and one's autonomy in selfhood.
It is an edict of all or nothing with Medussa as the multiplicity of her reflection, a misevaluation of a foriegn appendage for a native integration, which prosthetic makes its appearance in all things animate and inanimate.

This victimized alteration of Medussa is one of her manifold deceptions which can evince itself as the determining danger element because it subtly flanks the side of sympathic vulnerability, whereas the overt headstrong variant is anticipatory with a masquerade which presents itself face to face.

As i lay there bleeding out, awaiting my end, an eccentric balding figure approached me. When i came to i was in a beautiful castle forged of glass with breakfast served at my lap. My wounds had been covered and my heart "de-stoned". I asked where i was and who was he and he said this was castle ουτοπία a place for all that bleed and he is its prophet. He handed me a box containing a sword, it was large and dull, he mentioned that i should be careful and only use it as a last resort. As i healed up and began to wander the mighty castle i became more and more obsessed with heading deeper into its depths even attempting to invite others to enter, the deeper i wandered though the more and more roaches, rats, and cracks i found along the walls. I killed the vermin and repaired as i ventured but i only discovered more and more filth.I ultimately came to a locked door with an awful stench emanating from it. When i asked what was behind the door, the prophet led me down another corridor, with another door at its end. Door after door i traveled until one day i heard a voice from one of the doors. The voice told me to open the door, with the prophet not observing me that day i unlocked the door and opened.

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A dark vacuum quickly sucked me out into the darkness, little by little my eyes adjusted to the dark and i regained my composure, i looked back where i came from and saw a broken down disgusting building built with and upon several pieces of bone and flesh, the people inside fat and ugly consuming the carcasses of the dead served upon them with a smile by the prophet. I fled the scene and wandered in the barren darkness for a while, hungry and tired i stumbled upon a cave where there was a fire and a table with a grand meal on it. I quickly began to eat and was approached by the sound of hooves. As i turned a figure engulfed in darkness with horns sticking out of its head ambushed me and struck me out cold.

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like a big blob of (k)Not-ted nihilism...

Just like my mother, perhaps that is why i continue to seek it out, to order what my father could not.