Listen. . . .

40 more milligrams and I shouldn’t care.  But I do.

I see things I know I would be best not seeing…  Yet I am a creature that needs to know.  I feel better equipped.  Better footed on where my next step should be, how to protect myself . . . and there is that irresistible urge . . . . To see what it once was like.  What it could be like, what it should be like and is capable of  . . . yet I am treated as though I am not privileged or privy to such courtesies.

Always the thorn in the side.  I wonder why?  Because I call out Bullshit?  Because I demand respect?  In order to get respect?  Isn’t that what they teach you? Because I have granted forgiveness over distrustful deeds? Because I don’t believe in being involved in contradiction and demands that the other side does not comply with themselves or carry out?

“3 strikes you’re out” doesn’t seem to apply to me. Why?   Because I know the goodness is there.  I tasted it a few times,  and am greedy for more.  Why should it not be mine?  I have given no known discourse as to why it should not be.  Especially when I have given so freely.

You get what you give . . . right?  Isn’t that the rule?  Do unto others and blah blah blah?  I think I have, and then some.  Loved with all my might.  Forgave and compromised.  Adjusted and tried to move on, even though the wounds stung and every once in awhile there is that salt of a reminder rubbed into them.

Stupid Hope for a turn around.  Stupid hope for recognition of what is good.

I am the good.

I want the adoration I have seen bestowed on so many before me.  Even the ones who are fleeting and verbal. I want the appreciation.  I want the desire.  I know it is capable.  I catch glimpses of it from the past and outside.  It hurts that there is only frustration, deflection, and denial.  Why?  I was not the one who overstepped.  Lied.  Denied and then threw the blame back.

Hiding dirty minutes under the dirty mattress.  Do they itch?

It will always go back to this.  For it is the root.  Insecurity.  Festering, always, under the rug in which it is swept under.  Rotting away the floorboards that need to provide the stability.  It is there.  It will stay there until it is swept up and thrown away for good.

Sunday night I had a dream.  I was taking care of a giant Porcupine.  It was in another room so as not to prick anyone with its quills.  I knew I had to go in and feed it, yet knew I had to be very careful of not getting a quill stabbed into me.  I can remember seeing it lumber about the room, quills it had shed laying about the floor.

Porcupine– To see a Porcupine in your dream suggests that you need to look out and protect yourself from emotional and psychological harm.  Trust and honesty are important qualities.  Alternatively, a porcupine indicates there is a situation which you need to approach with openness.  Someone in your waking life may be on the defensive and are not be exposing their vulnerabilities.

Interesting.  Almost premonition.  My subconscious speaks to me in animal symbols.

I left not because I wanted to, but because you didn’t care.   I am not reaching out because I don’t want to, but because you do not care.

Actions.  Deafening

I don’t know what it is you want from me. . .

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