It's taken me nearly a quarter of a century to realize: "you're doing it again". Twenty-four years to figure out you'll never change. Even if I change.
I'll never understand your disregard for human life. This human life. My life. How vagrant your regard. The stipulation and manipulation. Like roadkill. Standing in the road. Curbside. While you subtly go out of the way, swerve to hit me. Harm me. I've never understood. However subtle. Never.
And even if I change. Will you, ever. Your choice is: You never will. There is a sick sad calmness about that. Sick and sad, indeed.
Stodgy. Relevant to a dead tree. Taking up space in a growing forest. You're slowing our growth. What good are you, other than attempting to take others down that, you think, seem to be in your way. That, you think, seem to threaten your livelihood. I never did. I never did that. Why do you treat me like I would or I did for that matter. Why must I suffer the most. Because I choose to keep you connected. Your ridicule under sheering and subtle, verbose finger pointing. Why. When I have never done that to you.
Where are your roots. Show me your roots! Are those dead too.