There is nothing more shocking to be in the presence of shattered glass still held fast by wooden struts with gaping holes as if baseballs were thrown through them in a fit of anger. As I looked at the pocket door hanging askew on its sliding hooks I realized that it was me that was off the hinges.
As I struggled to sweep up the tiny shards, part of me was on the floor too and the feeling of being violated didn’t compare to the numbness that started to radiate all over my body. I know that there are always 3 sides to every story and I couldn’t fathom how any words out of the mouths of others could create this kind of conflagration. But hell hath no fury…
When I saw the blood stains randomly smeared on doors and clothing it was for my benefit as if to give life to the death that just transpired. Blood and glass are powerful visuals that make statements words could never do.
Three days later I feel no anger and although it might be easy to seek revenge, as an alcoholic anger is better left to those who can handle it. It is not for me to judge because in the mind of the other it was justified and no amount of reason will suffice when rage takes over.
Blood & Glass its life and death.
It is so Jack not to be in a raging fury over the incident described. However , you have recognized the manipulative nature of the blood stains. It seems as if spilling of blood was an attempt at shifting the blame to you.
ReplyDeleteRage never seemed to overtake me in life I guess I was just lucky that way. I am starting to see the manipulative nature of some of the women that have been in my life; They seem to have a tendency to rely on my sensitivities as a way to make me feel guilty. I know when I have complicity in every situation that I find myself apart of but there are women that just take it way too far.
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