They never get that you bleed because it hurts, not because you're some kind of weakling. As I started writing this, the image came to mind of a squashed beetle, its yellowish-white innards oozing out from its once gorgeous, iridescent-black wings.
The bully can't see the beauty in the beetle. It can only see something smaller and weaker than himself (huh, interesting choice of pronouns, think I'll leave them unedited).
He can only see the beauty of death, of destruction, of maiming and destroying that which he can never be, which is good and beautiful.
It feels like something beyond me is speaking here, some knowing/knowledge that only materializes as I sit here at the keyboard - something that's out there for anybody/everybody to understand and/or 'get', but you have to be open to it.
Which I wasn't til now - too much anger, pain, shame, rage.
So what is it I see? He (the bully) does it because - ok, I can't quite go there yet. Feels to much like a 'should', that I 'should' forgive them. Not going there.
Stay tuned for further something-or-other on this subject, obviously it's not 'ready', not fully cooked yet...
Thursday, May 21, 2009
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