I received a nasty SMS this week; one that proclaimed "Goodbye" in a tone loud enough to wake the deceased. It was a nasty SMS that did not even warrant a reply.I call it nasty simply because I feel that the people who hurt you the most are the ones you love or care about. We empower our loved ones with secrets about our weaknesses and throw open old wounds for them to see. Soon, they choose an arsenal of jagged words extremely carefully and attack those very wounds that go deep. In short, they hit where it hurts.
I had promised myself that I would not respond to self-indulgent behavior but my boiling blood always seems to get the better of me. The enemy appeals to the juvenile in me, tempting me onto the battlefield. I have sworn to NEVER entertain immaturity and its friendly neighborhood “misgiving”. But I'm under attack from Operation "Assume, Presume and Fire" and I have to figure out whether to retaliate or run for cover where I will be out of range.
I've been through this war in the past and I have run out of ammunition, energy and inclination to go through the mental and physical trauma again but my enemy refuses to let me out of sight, finds me, rears its ugly head and spits it venomous spew right in my face and I am forced to retaliate for fear my own life and sanity. It’s a survival instinct.
Often, things are not what they seem and there have been times when I have not even believed my own eyes because of my blind trust in the enemies’ friendly gestures. I've always been fooled and betrayed and now I walk around with a knife protruding from my lower back. I do not wish to justify my survival strategy. Honestly, I don't care. But sometimes the enemy manages to shake and annihilate the very fighting spirit that they armour me with in the first place.
It's like the US training Osama. Big Mistake! But whose loss is it really?
Perhaps it is my destiny to be hurt by the enemy or maybe I'm just smart enough to win a battle, because I always loose the war.
