my control broke and I did, in fact, break for them to see.
I am exhausted.
I promise I swear I wasn’t doing it to test them. If I wasn’t then I wouldn’t have broken up the way I did.
But onto the evaluation of a response, there’s quite clear, an attempt at distancing.
I’m not sure how or why but every one of my ‘bad’ buttons was pressed and I struggled to stop the flood of helpless diatribe.
Upon reflection, I look back at the situation with a tinge of embarrassment but also a helplessness in recognition and acceptance that I feel all these pesky emotions.
I do. I don’t deny it.
I also do not deny my feeble attempts to control myself and accept their conversations diversions, their confession that their words are cliche when all that wound up happening was just sticking myself further into a rut.
A sense of sheer exhaustion and resignation; so much that every misguided attempt to remind me that we’re not quite as incapable as we think wound up sending me spiralling further.
I spent too long in that room.
Feels like just exhaustion but it is from a bone-deep weariness, attempting to breathe the moment the pressure ought to be lifted only to be crushed.
His presence is overwhelming in his ability to unsettle and I cannot even attempt to control the wave of feeling, feeling so inadequate and apologetic all the same.
I swallow back my heart lodged in my throat and I keep replying softly like nothing is wrong but he is fraying away the edges of my composure.
I openly divert, openly attempt so clumsily to fend off the almost attacks that threaten to yank everything out into the open.
I confess to not wanting to give him such a satisfaction; not when his reaction is to clumsily mend the pieces with his false assessment.
I was shaken.
And they can probably tell. It was a surprise to not have collapsed earlier.
Anyway, it’s clear they think me both obstinate and dense.
An attempt was made, made clear on my psyche, it would seem.
It was rejected, not by him but by them and the sentiments held are well, clear in that ‘we-expected-this’.
If I cannot find a topic that I enjoy, I would not do it.
After all the sunk cost and the heartache, maybe there’s this lingering sweetness bitterness that I will write something else, similar but close to my heart and not so idealistic but something in fact very truthful all the same.
If I cannot argue that monsters too, are human;
then I can only do the other.
The apologetic do not mean their apologies nor
do surface gestures all they belie.
Truth is not ‘truth’.
Clarity in arguments and not sinking into a humanisation of monsters but in the simplifying and justification, nay, the championing of a shouting of rights and extolling of virtues so unlike that of ours – the right and the standing up for oneself not backed up by the pre-requisite power.
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