Trust is an issue

"Forgiveness is giving up the hope that the past could have been any different then it was"

All the baggage we hold, clinging on to it like it's something that sustains us. Rolling through our wicked lives, pushing a grocery cart full of things we think we might need, even though we can't afford any of it. Someone said the resentments of the past, for Father's lack of love, for Mother's lack of support, whatever the baggage, we carry around like the corpse of the past on your backs. But how do we put it all down?

Is what shaped us in the past, part of who we are now? Nature? Nurture? My father was/is a narcissist who taught me over and over, all that matters is looks. He still turns my stomach with the delight he takes in the minor accomplishments of other men's daughters... "She learned to drive a stick" and my accomplishments go unnoticed, or, in some weird way, are so expected... When you remove the sexual fascination from a woman, then she can do anything, unremarkable.

But, what if... what if... there's nothing he says or does that really effects my life? Can the snake rid the poison from his head, by choosing another way? Or is the poison his nature? His defence? His demise? Is the poison keeping him from knowing the tenderness of love? How to expel the poison in my head -- only trough a poisonedss bite? Should I even try? Who would get hurt?

"Never test a man, he will always fail"... So, my poison is that I believe men can't be faithful -- like my Father. And so, unlike my Mother, I am forever vigilant.. Watching, waiting for the subtle shortness, that distance in the eyes, the sharp rebuffs followed by excuses.. a dead bed. All the tell tales my Mother never saw. So I sit, not afraid, but in the dark, because you can never know the light of anyone elses' mind... and I wait, wondering, feeling, and when I can't stand it anymore, I switch on the light... Ghouls and monsters all around. I could feel them there. I knew they were there. Then I am damned to turn the lights off again to preserve the peace of ignorance. But you can never unknow the known.

I wait, for the chill his his manor. Then I go to work, searching for the evidence of all this things I already know. He still loves another... photos... emails... But I knew all of this before turning on the light. If you see a bullet coming does it make it less deadly? No. Then why do I search for the pitiless vindication of nothingness?

It won't change the past. It won't fix the future. The past is gone, not even God can change the past.... The future us just a dream, and mirage to keep is walking in this desert... The now is all we have. And I choose to skip to the imagined last page, always hoping to save myself the pain of a surprise ending. But all endings are a surprise, aren't they? And painful.

Put down the body Temptress, and live for the moment.