Being right

Let’s face it: there’s really not much joy to it anymore. I already knew that things were worse than anyone would ever say, that human loyalty is so rare it might even be nothing more than legend. Everyone wants more money, more this, more that. I know that some days I want those things too; it would certainly make things easier. But at the end of it all, the core of things, life was never more tolerable than it was this last summer, gone so long on the trails in the woods, that sometimes I forgot I was supposed to come home. I could live with that. Live enough to keep going a few more years, even if I can’t say why, or how I’m doing it.

Is it bad that I want tear off your clothes and taste you as much as I want to suck my boyfriend’s cock? I wonder what that makes me. I guess it doesn’t matter, though I’m sure I will always care. The question is always there of ‘What am I?’. Did those girls fuck me up? Am I messed up? I’m not ashamed like I once was. I don’t care anymore. I’ve freely admitted it to those around me. What does it even matter? Isn’t it all just another reason to hate me, another reason to call me a freak or tell me I’m weird?

I want to ruin everything with my family. My cares are so worn thin that it has become flimsy even to onlookers. My rage gets the best of me, those odd occasions it decides to make itself known. The tone of my voice changes, my hands shake, and my eyes well with tears—I’ve always hated that about myself. It’s not a true rage unless tears are streaming down my face and my teeth are bared.

But I bide my time and I wait. And wait. My father used to tell me I was the most impatient person he knew. If only he knew… I’ve been waiting so long, the hair of my enemies has greyed, and the corners of their eyes are marred by wrinkles. I can wait. I can wait until the end of time if I have to. Lucky for me, they will die first from the simple passage of time.

All the people I hate but use, will die without ever knowing why I stood so attentively by their sides. They will die ignorant of my meddling, ignorant of all the roles I played. “Life is hard”, they will say, but I will always know the truth.

You don’t cross me and get away with it.

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