It’s no secret I’m the queen of burning bridges. I carry matches in my back pocket and have no need to wait until dawn. After hitting rock bottom half a dozen times, I decided it was better for my mental health to cleave out those who won’t bother with things like human decency, kindness, or a modicum of respect.
Kindness has always been my weapon of choice. Curiously, this seems to have left an impression of a docile woman that never existed. Poverty and classism taught me a long time ago that resiliency mattered more than hope. Time goes on. It moves past the moment of all moments, it runs through unforgettable, and erodes lines in the sand faster than forgiveness.
These past five years have been the first time I’ve felt a part of something. After not finding my niche for decades, I’d all but given up on building lasting relationships that hadn’t already been established. At some point I’d decided I was too broken and too tired to invest my tattered emotions into those who got off on kicking people when they were down. Imagine my disappointment when the relationships that mattered turned on one another. Loyalty lines were drawn as kings made their moves using the pawns as collateral damage and progress as an ever-moving goal post.
Watching the same circle of people kill each other by a thousand cuts has been hard to see, harder still to understand. What the fuck is so wrong? One random Tuesday three years ago, you blinked too hard in my direction, so therefore I must fuck with you for all eternity. The privilege of leading with hate is something I’ve never had.
Ego has toppled many a kingdom, but poverty will always survive. Like a cockroach after a nuclear bomb, survival is what I do. Kings can’t live in the dirt, no matter how dirty their hands are. Pawns though? It’s like going home after the odyssey.
There are only so many ways to inflict pain before it too becomes as common as a heartbeat. Much like victims of abuse unwilling to leave their abuser, ego never allows the rational to disengage when provoked. Every perceived slight becomes monumental and unforgivable. Tit for tat, rinse repeat, until nothing remains of use or value.
It doesn’t make sense to me to shit where you eat, but what do I know, I clearly wasn’t raised by the values that would allow me to treat people this way. I’d rather just burn the bridge to the ground and find a new path.
Find a new fucking path because this pawn who thought she found a home refuses to be collateral damage.