That I knew she was a life-squasher from first glance, no one cares.
One encounter and I knew I was dealing with a CON at some level. But how, but where? It’s just a hunch, I must be wrong. They always call me wrong.
She was showered with love and swooning in approval. Not to mention charming beyond all reason. I should like her anyway, because that’s what we do, in our clan.
Besides, she was all that he wanted, that any man could conceivably want: Beautiful, caring, young, gregarious, doting, etc., etc.
That I talked to her, privately, intimating, questioning her ever so delicately, which I can be just as efficacious at as I can be badgering mercilessly. No one cares.
There’s consensus, we’ve aligned with it, and if you ask a single unsavory question, you will be met with the total indignation of our collective clan wrath.
How dare you sense what we can’t see! We do not agree, missy!
But, wait, what about me? When I march along I’m blessed, but when I disagree I’m pitied? I’m castrated? I’m eye-rolled out of existence? That speaks much more of y’all than it does of me.
You say you love me, care about me, have protected me and yet . . . My senses are routinely dismissed, and completely subjugated under your defenses.
Do you care how it feels for me, really, to sense these things, to remember these things, while being systematically dismissed by those who say they love and care?
Don’t rock our boat! Well, that proves right there you are narcissistic and selfish! And a bully! A bully is rocking our boat of perfect delusions and illusions! STOP HER!
And yet, the truth will set ME free. I will, at last, be able to force that 300 pound laughing man off my lap, for once, and for all! Once every person in my life who finds this acceptable is OUT, breathe will return to me once again.
The liars will scatter, and even fear.
Heaven on MY hearth.