Nope. No. No sir. You don’t get to absolve your stuff here. You don’t get to clear your conscience with me. You don’t get to say sorry and expect absolution. I am not the judge. I am not the jury. I am a by-stander who just happened to get hurt standing in the crowd. I do not get a say in your heavy hearted matters, and to be quite honest I don’t want a say.
Silly me, standing too close. I should have stepped away. But instead I stood looking on thinking it would not be me…Silly silly girl. But that doesn’t mean you get to apologize. Your words are thin and easy to tear. They are transparent and dangerous. That’s the most lethal thing you know….that which can be seen.
They make you believe it’s the monsters in the dark that will get you, but it’s all lies and fairy tales. What gets you isn’t the bump in the night but the thing in broad day light. It’s safer that way, for the thing that is…to get you when you can see it plain as day. It doesn’t have to creep up or devise a plan, it can just do it’s damage and point blaming fingers because…well…you saw it coming, right?
Nope. No. No sir. You don’t get to drop your guilt off here. This isn’t a Safe Place. This plate is full enough already. You don’t get to dip your soiled rags in my already muddied water, trying to cleanse yourself. You don’t get to ask questions or make comments. You don’t get rights to my happiness or my friendship.
Nope. No sir. Absolve yourself elsewhere…not in my lap.