you walk your dog in the rain, and he stands up to his ankles in a puddle. it's too chilly for you to join him, but you like that it makes him happy. it's been a dry summer - let him play in the water for now, until it turns to snow.
you call your brother and the two of you talk about your dad. it is mostly to vent - you're both on the same side about all of this.
you tell others that you're just a cautious person when it comes to intimacy. but the caution is sort of calculated, isn't it? the way you were raised - it 's better if you don't bring yourself onto people. you have been surrounded by too much violence - there's too much chance that you've sublimated that, somehow. taken it into you. made it a part of you.
nature/nurture, right. you have his laugh and the same hand movements. you've also ruined a lot of relationships. the worst thing about you, bar none, is that you inherited his flashfire temper. you'd rather die than allow that the space it wants to run - you avoid conflict with a tenancy and drive that rivals the sun. you catch it sometimes anyway - the way it burns up and through you, coating every membrane and cell.
fuck. easy for you to be hurt and angry. harder to admit that you understand a lot of the ways he functions. can even see the logic in it, sometimes. to be fair to him - violence makes the world go around. it's probably best if you stay alone, maybe forever. it's better than spreading that toxin around.
but your dog finishes splashing in the puddle. you finish the walk and end the call. you and the dog are both soaked to the skin; but the first thing you do when you get home is towel him off carefully. he puts muddy paws on the couch. he shakes off water onto the floor.
your dog does these things casually, not worried you'd ever hurt him.
gracieabrams
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snowghoul
ellievsbear
origamiaround
dailybridgerton
turnnoffyourmind
