Yesterday I spent most of the day trying to sort through my feelings. I could not be sure what I was feeling. I felt a lack of energy that was almost immovable. I found that once I sat and stopped trying to avoid feeling, that I was able to detect what it was. I was really angry. I am in a safe and healthy environment now, and looking at the environment I have physically had to occupy for the last four years is like looking at the opposite.
Dilapidated house with a yard that is slowly enveloping the structure itself, filled with insects and mold, be gone.
When I sat with my feelings yesterday, I pulled out a pencil and wrote in a paper journal, which is something that I have not done in some time. I let out the bile that I have held back. There’s more, but let’s start slowly.
Upon leaving, I felt oddly similar to how I felt after the maelstrom last year. I felt like I am recovering from being violated again.
Your complacency is damaging. I hope all the people you DO find the time for understand the gift you bring: your fickle attention and doddering self loathing, the nervous grin hiding the general ineptitude for LIFE. Making clams with nothing to support you but your own magical thoughts. Sign yourself away, you noble and damaged woman.
Feigned nobility is a feeble attempt at hiding your nature.
I take offense that you consider yourself a philanthropist. Philanthropist heal thyself-seething with hate behind frumpy dated clothes.
Bitter women that don’t smile belong in their stale hate filled worlds behind desks or with rulers ready. Thwarting kindness and self esteem like the pinched wrinkled faces of women praying incessantly in pews (no doubt for the demise of their enemies and neighbors).
I felt small. Abandoned. Worthless. Smited. Forgotten. Unloved. Burdensome. Guilty. Angry. Confused.
I felt as though your lack of responsibility inadvertently made me your enemy,
AND THAT IS NOT MY FAULT.
I didn’t do anything to deserve the way you treated my family and me. Maybe when you stopped you needing me you stopped caring. Does that make you an opportunist? Perhaps the worst kind, the kind that doesn’t own it and tells herself and the rest of the world the opposite. Perhaps then an opportunist and a hypocrite to yourself.
You have no enemy in me. I have no feeling for you. Neither enemy nor friend are you. The rare opportunity to meet a facet of me many do not lies in your hands. The diamond like facet that shines and blinds one’s eyes, freezes the skin. The cold, smooth gaze that looks through you, and recognizes more than you would like.
Enjoy the view.