If I left right now, the only thing I would take is my sanity. And I can’t find that, so I can’t leave. Somehow you control me wirelessly, and I can’t disconnect.
I’m sure my brain is fine, even though you slammed every door that you could, ‘accidentally’, of course. I can sleep alone, because I sleep much better that way. You have a way of making everything my fault. And then you accuse me of having a God complex. Isn’t that hilarious? Of course I’m God – who else could have so much responsibility for how everyone’s life works out?
These first two paragraphs are an example of self-reflection on long walks designed to clear the mind. It doesn’t work so well when the mind is an erupting volcano, and the smoke is just the beginning. It’s my lost sanity, turned to ash, as you ignore the igneous, debase the basalt, banish the obsidian to oblivion. The ashes are ashes, sitting in every can and staining every car but mine. The dust is dust, coating every horizontal surface unless I make it disappear.
You have a way of showing anger without spelling it out. I don’t even know what irks you half the time, but at this point I don’t care what bothers you any of the time. You said you wanted to destroy the point I was making, but that was a lie. You want to destroy me to build yourself up. The volcano builds mountains, islands in the ocean that eventually harbor life, but you only focus on the destructive forces. You’re Pompeii, personified. You’d like everything to be preserved, but you’ll only uncover what you are willing to let people see. It’s all ancient history, but you’ll bring it up again and again in the museum you call ‘image’.
I shouldn’t be mad. You are what you are. Instead of begging, or screaming at high volume, to try to get you to change, I simply state how we’re different. The more I state our differences, the more you paint me as the strange one. You want to be unique, above everyone else, but the same, with everyone else. It depends on what you need me to feel at the time, what you need everyone to believe at the time. A southern girl from a northern state. A worldly girl from a small town. An intelligent girl who doesn’t want to think too deeply because it makes your head hurt, and it’s too much trouble. You’re right. Don’t question it. Just take your word for it. Don’t ever check.
You want to be a big fish in a small pond. I want to be myself in any body of water, no matter what. That’s where we’re different. I downplay myself, and go on merit. You exaggerate everything, appealing to authority, to numbers, to opinion, and every other foul from the logical fallacy playbook, as long as it supports you right then and there. Someone you called an idiot the day before agrees with you now? Well, now they’re an expert, aren’t they. Loyalty is what you value, not truth, not facts.
Like I said before, if Hitler says the grass is green, he’s right, regardless of all the reprehensible things he has done. If Jesus says the grass is orange, he’s wrong, regardless of his divine origins. In other words, truth is truth – it has no morality or loyalty, other than to itself.
And the truth is, you’re just as sick of yourself as I am. That’s why you hate us both.