gko

Heartbeats monitored. Breaths counted.
Controlled intake.
Confined geography.
Chaos swimming.

Everything is reported to the Rose. Her thinning petals are overshadowed by strong thorns on a dying stem.
The thorns are a direct result of insecurity. The thorns are her security.
Judgments haunt her. Visions of peers humiliating and mocking her appearance.
This Rose is the meanest Rose I’ve ever met.
A rose will always be a rose, I suppose.

Competing thoughts pass through my forehead and the impact makes my neck pop.
I’m here with you, a whisper in my ear.
A whisper, a beat, a melody.
A whisper, harmonizes as the sound pulses through the chest.

There is a fine line between sensory bliss and sensory hell.
And that fine line is where I reside as I nearly lose balance from the cellular reflexes.

Rose may experience things differently than I. However, she is in a position of authority. Therefore responsibility, dignity, and empathy should be what is striven for. At the root of it is Caring.
Caring for what is beyond her own self interests.
I may have been seeing things through a blurred lens due to the rush of chemicals pumping through my veins, but where the hell was that care, Rose?

What do you care about? You? Your Cat? Your son you never get to see because you spend every day at a job you despise? Yeah, it’s personal. I’m making assumptions. This is a bad habit of mine. Mirroring as a defense mechanism.

Rose was responsible for my care and the only thing she accomplished was perpetuating a toxic trauma response cycle.

I am only left to wish that her heart open up some day and embody warmth and light. I know she has it in her but sheeeeesh. Get to work, Ma’am…
Those are the last words I have for her.
Good Riddance, you bitter bitter woman.

All love

-GKO