Unbalanced

It can be a shock to realize how unimportant you really are, especially to someone who is a big deal to you.  Where they leave an indelible imprint on your existence, you register about as much as a gnat: annoying, briefly smashed and flicked off with a shudder as they amble their way through life, forgetting you as soon as they meet you.

I will never know the cause of this imbalance.  What if you were someone to whom everyone was significant yet you were the opposite to them?  What would you do?

Just so you know, you were not that much of anything and no mark was left.

Oh, to be unimportant, dismissed, dismissible, that is what creates the crazy lady, a scorned creature.  Problem is that the scorn ravages just you and no one else because, all in all, even they are not as important as you are to you.  You are forever the target of your own enmity, a magnet for pain and stress.  Endless stream of poison.

So let go.  Free yourself.

You are nothing to him and it’s ok.

You’re so used to being a force of reckoning.  Everything quails in the wake of your presence.  Then, there you go: you don’t even register and there’s nothing you can do about it.

You can always Rumpelstiltskin yourself or something but that would only leave you dead or living ripped asunder.  Would be hard to walk, right?

So pick up your ego that spills out of your eviscerated soul and hobble as you heal.  Crawl first.  Grovel.  Just hold on.  Breathe shallowly until pieces of you stop slipping out mixed with intestines.  One day.

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