I don't owe you an explanation. A strangely dangerous exclamation.
You have no idea who I truly am. A truth many seem to find hurtful, even though it's by no means my aim. It is something that could be remedied, but I suppose it's easier to take it as some sort of backhanded insult, embrace it bitterly and continue to uphold and maintain this fact. Still, I never utter such things with any other motive than being truthful (albeit to a naive degree; of this I am well aware). I realize I'm not the most eloquent or sensitive bastard when it comes such things, but the ensuing war of attrition tends to be something I'm never really prepared for. I suppose people think I'm more mean-spirited than could ever be true. A defense mechanism of sorts? I'll never know for sure.
Why do you care? A question I voice without innuendo or subtext, generally because I don't really have an agenda shadowing my output. Rarely if ever do I use window dressing to mince my words into a more easily digestible form. It's a strength as much as a flaw. If the question passes my lips, it does so with blue-eyed candour, never receiving the same in return. It is seen as a statement, even though I never think of it in such a way. Goes to show what an emotional tourist I can be, I s'pose.
Fight the urge. My mantra of late. Exercising self-restraint and listening to reason are furthest from my mind when all I want to do is let go, but the inescapable downpour far outweighs any potential rewards of following your instincts. True, it's not as fulfilling, but peace of mind is an invaluable commodity. And indeed rare. I'm trying very hard to steer clear of volatile situations, not to mention opportunities to stick my hand in the cookie jar. I'd like to kid myself that there would be no consequences, but I know better than that. Damn it, I do.
Walk away without a trace. A valiant effort for the sake of others when my warning lights begin to blink, but it never seems to come across in the way I intended. That old goblin of assumed declarations rears its ugly mug. These attempts are also rather susceptible to backfiring in surprising ways. Gems of dark humor; quite entertaining if you're not the punchline. But at least I'm trying.
It can't all be on you. Something I keep telling myself when one of the patterns above unleashes a snowball effect and all I can do is hold on for dear life. I'm honestly none the wiser why people can't let things be. Even less privy to why so many situations feel like I'm surrounded by fuses and my lap is full of liquid fire. Sooner or later a droplet will fall.
Tread softly, tread downwind. The few times I find myself in the company of others nowadays seem to be doomed to derail into a spectacle of weaponized wordplay, broken bonds and surprise attacks. Perhaps I lack the foresight to see them coming, or perhaps I am indeed losing touch with the most elementary of social skills. Still, calling these eventual and inevitable results unsettling is a contender for understatement of the year. The end result? I can speak only for myself. Emptiness.
Don't give them more ammunition. One of the more potent reasons why the undersigned isn't exactly the most open gent is because I know that divulging personal information grants others access to weak points. My weak points. I wish I could say I trust people close to me to not act in such a way, but as recent experiences have shown yet again, such notions would be little more than self-deceit. As for me, I don't go for the jugular. I simply won't. I can think of a million better ways of passing time than trying to wound someone with words, mostly because it's something I was once very skillful in. Now that the tables are irreversibly turned, such an attack always dazes me and is left to linger as a cloud of bewilderment over my head for days. I'm never ready for it. It makes every following attempt at sincerity that much harder. Something in me wishes to reiterate past yet fresh thoughtlings on echoes behind my back, but such uncomfortable revelations are in no need of rework and I'd rather spare myself the torment.
Grow cold. Detach. No. In spite of my sometimes overpowering instinct for self-preservation, at the end of the day I'd rather take the hits than shield myself from any situation with the potential to yield such an outcome. My life has changed dramatically in a short span of time, yet my surroundings - visitors and residents included - remain relatively unaltered. As a sum of its parts, then, it is indeed understandable how this can translate to communication breakdowns and even the disintegration of once shared common ground. Yet I must confess I'm trying to be a beacon of understanding for selfish reasons. Understanding is what I crave in return as well, though I certainly know I have a funny way of showing it. I'm simply tired of building fortifications when I'd rather try to find vigor in having the courage to be vulnerable even in the view of others. I don't want to feign strength like a wounded animal surrounded by predators.
Yet I wonder... what else is there to do?