I've been on a mental rollercoaster today... The day itself has been good - considering that included a trip to the dentist, that says a lot. Still, my mind is racing round the same boring track it's been racing round for nearly a year: how many ways did I wrong you, past platonic/professional/romantic relationship people?
Maybe it's because I've found some zen with my income, my body, and my friendships that I'm flipping over any and every stone fearing/hoping to unearth poisonous centipedes. Very poisonous centipedes. Very poisonous centipedes that I previously tortured and so they are not only very (very) poisonous, but resentful and - here's the absolute worst part - 100% entitled to both their poison and their resentment. Does that make any sense?
Now you see what my internal monologue has been like...
Culpability's a bitch. Especially when I realize that, even discovering everything I did wrong, each of these situations (and one in particular) still would have ended in total disaster. I could have just walked out, integrity, if not emotions, relatively intact. But no. I was so graceless in the rubble. So sadistically akimbo, knotted into a wrecking ball, hurling destruction at every wall, all the while screaming, "Why's it so messy in here?"
Centipede, these are the rocks I have hidden you under. You have a hundred little pieces I'm uncomfortable with. And here I am, un-balled and flipping over your refuge, coaxing you out and into the light, so I can look at you in the sunshine, freak the f*ck out, and realize I can't stomp on you without feeling guilty.
Oh dammit.
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