It’s not so much a question of

whether it is, or is not your fault, or where to place the blame.

Not so much as it is a question of if it is ‘okay’.

Everyone is imperfect in some sense, and we grow to accept these imperfections – love others because they are willing to love us and tolerate our flaws.

But if a flaw is loved then it is no flaw: therefore no flaw is loved, only tolerated.

Is that ‘okay’? How much, or how flawed are people allowed to get before you consider it toxicity and cut them off?

What if it’s someone you simply cannot cut off so easily.

I want not to say it, but I am secretly and internally desperate to be able to distance myself. desperate and struggling.

And we hate that right now the only way to prevent ourself from being hurt is to use back exactly the same methods they use on us that we hate so very much.

Weaponising anger and sharpening words into a stake that I will drive into your fat black heart, I will not ever ever get back to you – let alone want to.

Maybe saying this and writing this is one way of slowly becoming free.

Which is odd, of course, since I know that I will not be free until the day they die. And what a long way that is.

Chide me, and perhaps my heart will soften in the face of a streak of better days.

But unlike Duo, I will not permit a streak freeze over the weekend; two days without arguments is barely a cause of victory.

How grateful we are that you are an ‘essential service to the community’ for without it, surely this castle built upon sand would collapse.

If it collapsed then what am I if not the sandbank upon which all the waves crash?

So it is not ‘okay’. This is not ‘okay’, and in the future, I will not accept it in any partner I pick. I will know not to accept it.

I will not accept it in myself, except in reprisal to you. Because tit-for-tat and a sword is the best thing to fight another sword with barring a machine gun.

I can also pick that. But the day I do, I hope you rue.

Everything we learn about relationships from you both, we relearn internally because otherwise I would have no trusted relationships to speak of in the first place.

But I do. And for those that we have, we are very grateful and we will not take a hatchet to the tree.

To someday cut you down to size, to someday be able to protect those who are like us, to someday make sure that when she cries it is out of happiness and not sadness.

In such a time, we will go the whole way and then, ensure that you will truly, ‘first, do no harm.’

But what ridiculousness that we are in this situation in the first place.

(or reality.)

And the odd knowledge that we are part of half the world, counting from the average to under in terms of this.

The massive magnitude of human suffering. To think sapiens is ‘wise’

To think that there are people who cannot even say these things.

sadness is not beautiful,

agony is not sweet.

Torturous is the life that

begets only more cruelty.

We may talk alike,

but do we think the same?

It is difficult to say yes but

if you thought the same way

that we do then,

perhaps you would not be the

monster that we see in you.

So now on this stage: this play,

the unfolding tragedy when

the curtain calls and you

drop dead.

My hope, unending;

the reality that will nevertheless bring short-term suffering in exchange for the future’s

happiness.

 

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