it occurred to me today. the understanding, that is. for a long time, i knew there was something out of place, wrong, and irrational in how you presented the matter. i couldn’t quite put my finger on it. it slipped away from the grasping of my mind, for some time i was lost in my effort of seeking understanding.
but i finally reach it. perhaps it was merely wanting to see instead of wanting to deny that brings it to me. i nod to the humanity of that and accept it as it is.
you forever chided me, judged me, convicted me of ‘lashing out’ at you with strong words. the phraseology of it and the manner of presentation explicitly speaking of my intent; naming it negative, condemning it, condemning me.
you were wrong. about all of it. and the delivery of those judgments, those convictions, those assumptions and presumptuousness of it… they were and are the evidence. ironic, that. telling, too.
i was so busy reacting to the accusation that i never noticed this. i was so busy trying to prove myself to you that i never realized how little you were paying attention. how you never paid attention.
intent is not a thing another can know without asking. you never ask. you assume. you judge. you invent your own explanations and, finding them helpful to your own ends, set them as truth.
they never were.
in the moments when you could afford to be honest, you admitted my words were true. but never could you manage more than this.
i cannot know the causes. i am not sure you know them youself. you hide. you run. i remember the faceless people in your writings, your dreams, your hikes through your own head. and i remember asking you if you ever thought about why there are so many faceless things in you, of you.
i remember how you shied away from it.
all of my words to you were given with compassion, and for knowing how much you sought to be more than the anxiety-ridden, neurotic, manipulative, narcisstic, and selfish person you had already admitted being.
i did not need to hear you admit these things. i already knew them. you needed to admit them. but more than this, you needed to do more than admit them. and it is this that you refuse.
it is this that you still refuse.
i let you punish me for a very long time for speaking truth to you. and i either avoided or ignored the things implicit and explicit to your choice of abuse and punishment in return for caring enough to speak to you truth.
the response in august was to set this before me in a fashion i could no longer avoid or ignore.
in one sharp moment, i glimpsed just how far outside my own boundaries of self-respect, compassion, and kindness i allowed you to pull me.
and in that moment, i was ashamed for permitting it. for permitting you.
oh humanity. i thought seeing me be willing to care more for you than myself would get through to you. foolishness, really. does a blind man ever see? no.
i briefly wonder if you will ever open your eyes. but i do not wonder long, and not as deeply as once i did. i stand on the opposite shore, the scorched earth, charred bridge, and river itself laying between us, and see you splashing and gurgling as if you drown.
but i know better in this moment.
you cannot drown, for you are a piranaha, taker of life, feeder upon flesh, a creature of endless desire and greed.
i will no more give to you such food. if you would feast, set your eager teeth to yourself and perhaps one day your bones will wash upon the shore and find more fruitful ends than the fear and pain you so often visit upon others in the name of hiding from yourself.
may the day come soon, and may others be turned from you quickly until it does that such suffering as you savor be unable to as much as breathe upon them.