The Outcast. It takes two to tango.

Rules are made to be broken.

Injustice breaks the rules.

Courage rebuilds them.

Inclusively. Of course. What is good for the goose is good for the gander, eh? Over reach has its ways of embedment, triangulation, enmeshment. What is good for thee is not for me. Maybe. Maybe not.

Right? I thought so.

Or. I thought not.

Do the crime. Do the time and other non denominational ways of proving a point. Proving the proof is in the pudding. The gloppy and sloppy pudding. Drippy, sippy and yum, yum, yum.

Sometimes the truth is not found easily.

Sometimes it is buried under years of seeing through rose colored glasses especially when the cloud of judgment hangs in the air.

Some of us. Who know where we came from. Run away fast anyway. In the very best of circumstances.

Some of us. Who know where we came from. Run away fast, too.

Will go to great lengths to hide the warts time and again. Excruciatingly prove we do not belong with them, are not like them. Etcetera, etcetera.

When the stand off of all standoffs is present. What is needed?

Unconvention.

An unconventional approach to what we all already know.

You are wrong.

I am right.

Case closed.

(Just checking to see if you are paying attention!)

Seriously though.

We all come from somewhere.

Are capable of thinking not hunky dorey and not totally pure thoughts. Feel abandoned from time to time. Sad and true at the same time. We imagine the day we will feel euphoric at the thought of our truth being exposed in someone’s eyes.

The eyes seldom lie. We choose life instead of the death of the same old same old. Leave. Exit. Vamoose. Slam the door shut. Thinking and hoping, maybe praying, that one day we can “go back” and all will be the same.

Ugh. All will be the same. The more things change the more they stay the same. Then, the game becomes more, how shall we say, sophisticated. We thought we knew one another. And yet. We look at one another with the exact same familiarity of times past and passed by. We tire easily at the thought of the way we were raised, handled, survived in the halls of the injustice and judgment that hung in the air.

Exhausted.

No one was really immune. Most all attacked the issues of the day their “own way.”

Did it their way.

Gone. Going solo. Joining the crowd is not in the cards. Because to play the game is eating away at the gut of an honorable life.

We only noticed because we got punched in it and pushed into it over and over. With each repeated ouch, the truth became buried further beneath the surface. Leaving it to anyone’s guess where the center of the problem really was. Or is.

Someone was watching in the corner and brought a sense of sanity in the insane. (ctbs). Unable to talk. Was there all along. Saw everything. Did not take sides. Swept thought the dwelling and the emotional dwellings of impossible odds. Sowing seeds of forgiveness and togetherness. Some may have noticed. Some might not have cared. Too busy nurturing their hurt and pride at what was. Going on.

Fast forward.

And.

The same old same old.

Distance may buffer the past.

We often go to great lengths to pretend the hurt is “fine.” Expecting others in our orbit to read our minds.

Impossible really.

The standoff does not get to the bottom, the rock bottom of the real issue. That was left to the ones trying to figure out the un-figure-outable. The rock bottom-ey of getting to an answer and a quest to make sense of it all. Of it all. Of the whys.

The myth of the new.

New people came in.

New people went out.

Nothing was ever really solidified or finalized. The door was relentlessly kept open like the gaping hole of hurt.

New people used the circumstances and situations of the past to their advantage. Never really wanting or intending to break the chains of connection—good or bad. Keep the gravy train going in their own and personal direction.

We examine ourselves.

We cross examine ourselves.

Search and seek our souls to make sure we are “clean”. “I wasn’t even there”. I didn’t do it.” “ I say nothing.” “I saw nothing.” So much easier to deny the truth than embrace the lies we tell ourselves and others.

Self-righteous in our rendition of the dance. We have mouths to feed and bills to pay. So we decide to go after you and yours. Press upon the importance of mine over yours. Hand it over to me.Just take it.

Now.

And.

Asap.

Otherwise the hell you will pay will keep on paying emotional and detrimental dividends to you the rest of your living days. Ha! The stronghold of choke tightens.

My task. Completed.

Yours. Left and abandoned in shambles of my smartness. Your carelessness is not my problem anymore. You should have seen it coming. You did not.

My plan. The hell you will pay will last your lifetime.

My smugness will keep me warm and cozy.

Sorry.

But not actually sorry.

I get a kick out of your pain.

This pendulum will keep you dizzy, on your toes, and my bully mentality tactics will penetrate through you and yours in different and creative ways.

Translation.

You do not stand a chance. At the hands of my great and secret tactics of discontent. Yes. We are all capable of doing things we disagree with, don’t like, ignore because the reality is too difficult.

Like a young person’s cotillion class. We either pick a partner.

Or they pick us.

Either way, instead of stomping all over another, tripping over ourselves. Why not gently take the hand of another and help them along the treacherous path of life and

Stop it. (lk)

What?

Telling the story we want to hear instead of telling the story of what is. Or was. Recollections may vary. No two sides are always the same. Whether one or another “buys”it, is of course always their business.

The more we try to convince someone else we are right, becomes the moment we give away our freedom, our life. Our autonomy to live as we choose. The past is the past. The door can always open and close. And. Be slammed shut, too. When tempers are triggered. The bill Ty to stay calm. Gone.

There are many ways to silence each other.

There are more than many ways to hurt each other.

The enemy of my enemy is my friend. (ac)

The truth is the truth is the truth.

Etcetera. Etcetera.