Everlasting

I knew she didn’t mean what she was saying. I knew she didn’t know what she was saying. Or doing. Or where she was. Or who I am.

I felt adult, like a woman, like a Good Friend. Well versed in the aggressive manic depressive. I understood my role had shifted to an enemy of the state. Watched as a barricade slammed in my face. My friendship deported.

I was noticing trails of my father, and how I remained so calm in furious fits. Eyes clear, body steady. They’re more than tantrums. Violent, rageful explosions. Directed at me.

My offense, the trigger: true vulnerability. My step toward connection, through a conversation, a correction. Again producing an attack so disproportionate I felt my mind split.

As I traveled outward and upward, my peace remained safely inside.