Who do you think I am anyway...

The catalyst of confusion
started a fire
while shopping for
a soul on a high wire.

Until now I was unaware that the remuneration for impropriety exceeded that set for dignity. How much did you get for yours? As for my dignity…I will hold onto it, thank you. I would rather starve than feed my soul from a base wage.

With my voice in repose, I hid behind my own forbearing shadow, and allowed silence to foster absolution. Silence failed, and I have become intolerant of flippant commentary.

I am not so completely unaware. Because I am certain that is common knowledge, your recent presentment was, quite frankly, out of line. Your bravado flames me.

As it happened, I had simply misplaced the why, where, and how. I can identify the sickness in that statement, and I concede fault in my volition. I understand that I can be fucking difficult. My own scathing behavior must remain in constant check.

I am not able to take back that fleeting moment or the injustice it served you. I have arrived at the place from where I must move on. I wish you the same in your departure.






p.s. a fucking doormat.