Brutus.

In the last six months, I have learnt a lot about myself. It is almost as if i've been in isolation for so long, cut off from human civilization; locked in my own consciousness and oblivious to how volatile relationships can be.

I have found myself enraged by certain behaviors and shocked by how little people care about how they affect the world around them. I don't write this to judge. God knows i am not perfect, I have my vices, I lose control of my awareness and I hurt the ones i care about. 

Those i speak of, are the ones who wish to interject into every aspect of your life and tell YOU what they think. They wish to inform you of their opinion, whether you agree or not. They believe they are justified. After all we are merely an intellectual exchange. However, it gets irritating when they attempt to refute everyone else's opinion and believes just because they've been on the planet longer or jumped continent they have a better perspective of YOUR world than you do.

I'll put up with it for now...

Then there are the moments when they whisper. The moments when they pretend a simply trip to the kitchen for a cup of tea is perfectly innocent rather than a stage set for witches round a caldron. They spit cruel words and spun spells of spite and slyness. Then walk back with painted smiles. 

I would have liked to think that those behaviors belonged in school with the bitchiness and sharp tongues but clearly being a 40 year old woman with two kids and a partner does nothing for your maturity. touché! my dear!

I still seem to be putting up with it....

There are then days, when you find you no longer know who that person is. The transformation is instantaneous and without warning. My first instinct is to walk away. I would like to run cause i can't face it. I can't face the words made of knives and sly comments. To turn around and feel what Caesar felt when he said "et tu, Brutus?". It is such a crushing feeling.

I have not understood the last six month and it will continue to plague me. I will continue to question my role in those tragedies. What I had said, what I had done. I will ever question my motives and the contents of my heart and my mind. I do not wish to wash my hands of responsibility but I will not be painted as the instigator either.

At the end of the day, when I look up to the heavens, I make sure that I played my part and made my judgements in good faith and with a good heart.