Diffidence transmutes into sullen rage at the specious activities informing the lives of those near and dear. Unjust, the resentment roils with unerring judgment, disproving conventional notions of justice with which to begin.
Selfishness on my part? Would that I had not been harangued to desist from being who I am--in part or in whole--that I might then have no expectations for my loved ones to make as Herculean (and austere, stark, bleak) an effort as I to reform, to be or do, where the two differ, that which they are not. Nietzsche knew as well as any I suppose the price paid to the taskmaster by slave when slave made: rebuttal, a demand for servitude in kind.
Selfishness? If selfishness then by selfishness inspired; and I rebuke and renounce all subsequent judgment. I made none towards others; asked of them nothing fundamental, not even a clipped nail or soul. For concession to demands made to me, I demand in return. Perhaps justice after all whose cornerstone is tragic ignorance...
...the friendliest voice I know, the fridge's electric hum, sounds in the room. Pipes issue their own groaning protest at the twist by someone's need. A creak here and there. Muffled murmurs make their own claim from outside or within the walls confronting me with questions I refuse to acknowledge; they're ambiguously put; and as matter of etiquette, I'd ask for some clarity. Objects--a metal chair, slung jeans, books, mirrors--bulge restlessly at their forced contrition, their subjugation by stillness, that awful ennui they detest. Fast and constant friends, yet estranged, the things surrounding me...
...an animal pads on the snow outside my door. I hear it...
Talking with my son, a child, he said when I asked him how he defended his behavior when it was deemed "bad" a truism. He said, "He lies, she lies, they lie." Not an exercise in pronoun usage, I asked him his meaning. An audible shrug, a pause, and then, "It's like asking 'why', Daddy."
Equality, in a word.
Piss off, in two.
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