Under The Tree

Happy Birthday Dazai!

I do not trust you with your own life because you are good and kind and noble--I know you would not hesitate to sacrifice yourself to save me."

I know she is precious to you. One of only two. I know that you lived with her, that in some part, she raised you. I know you spent years with her. She gave and sheltered and permitted all sorts of things children love. I know you love her. And for that, I love her too.

And yet I know a part of you does not agree with her. Her assumptions of life, her opinions of people, her skewed vision. I know the pain she causes others makes you angry, confuses you. You were the shield for so long, the beloved for whom she would turn away her wrath. But never apologize. Never admit her wrong. Only rage against any who dared to disagree, who would not bend, who would venture to live without her permission or guidance.

You were a child. You knew no better. She was a force that was familiar and you never considered that it was wrong for her to be filled with such wrath. She was as the tide, a storm to be weathered until it faded to peace again, for who could change the course of the ocean, the crack of the lightning, the nature of her?

Then you, her favored, the one she believes she shaped, you picked me. And I think then, she realized you had not been touched by her influence as truly as she wished. She realized that somehow, she had not bought your love. You had given it to her, but no. She wanted you to owe.

She was unkind to you and you called it truth. She was foolish and you cited her nature. She was angry and you allowed her to take it out on you. She pushes into your life, your mind, your home, and I know she does not love you truly. But you make her feel safe. You make her feel loved. She has never learned that love and “no” must coexist, that she is not owed favor or acceptance.

It is coming. I feel it. The brewing of a storm, the stirring of her temper, her jealousy and rage. You will choose me, as you always do, even if you will not choose yourself. And she will snap at you like a diseased animal, a dog whose mouth foams with rabies and filth. You are strong, but you are soft. I fear you will let her tear you because you cannot bear to slit her throat.

nostalgic, for nothing [BEAST]

Couch cuddlin’