It does not change

I am still looking for the switch. How can I be honest again about the things that bite me and itch like sores. How can I play the blame game even though I want to kill fast. Burning away ideas and behaviours, violently and with crushing jaws, leaving behind sand of teeth. I wonder if I would save you if you would choke, maybe wait a little. I wonder why I always become sick in your presence – oh wait, you forgot to mention that the needles of your judgement hook themselves in flesh, burning themselves into openness and play. I feel captured and my stomach is full of bats that can’t find their way out of the cave. Fuck you for what you have done, even though you don’t even know or care as that is your nature, officially. Oh I wish I could just be loving and kind, but forgiveness is hard if the one forgiven is watching you still.

After months – now – I understand. I am the one watching. And grateful for that insight.