landslide

As it turns out, hate is real easy. Comes naturally. Soothes and seethes and stays put as long as you let it. The more you look, the more reasons there are; to hate. Some people, it seems, are begging for it. Survive on it. Being hated, that is.

Listen, I'm a good Christian girl, and I was raised accordingly. In fact, it was well into adulthood before I felt comfortable uttering the word. Now, I admit, I feel the my version of the force with some regularity. Have named it as such, with some relief. And I can justify it, so long as it's even a little bit justifiable. This involves a lot of finger pointing, gnashing of teeth, heartache. Fists that rattle against the glassed in walls of reality. Hate hurts. But, in the absence of healing, there it is.

Really though, what can you say to those, manipulative, who thwart the worlds of others, for fun? What can you say to the thieves, the takers, grace-fakers, back-stabbing gleeful peace-wreckers?  Those people for whom nothing is sacred. What can you say to them? You can say nothing. Or you can hate them. Sometimes, it's an easy choice.

Initially.

Then, like fog and magic, the choice is gone. Before you know it, you'll hate on instinct. You'll remember, with fondness, a time when you did not hate the world. The world? Yes, because it is the world against you. Such is the result of hating one. One is never enough.

Hate isn't, either. It starts small and then swallows you. Meanwhile, all the reasons in the world won't help you on from it. You know that person who used your heart for kindling? Yah. She's still out there, enjoying the fire. She's fine. She's still taking, in fact; it's all she knows. Your hate hasn't changed a thing, about her.

When everything feels lost, if you look close enough, you'll see everything's not lost, after all. Much is here, still. You've more than survived the burning. You've thrived under it. Grown, even. So you'll let go of what happened. Now matter how much you wish you could change history. You can't. She made her choices. Now, make yours.

As a matter of celebration, in the face of the many hands we've been dealt, here's a photo of me & my little one.
Nose to nose, and happy. As we are, today. As a step-mom, I have been shamed,
whether in reality or in my own head, away from sharing this photo publicly. No more.
We three (our family) remain just this: happy together.
Some may try to steal love, but love won't be taken easily.
(C) Doliente Lifestyle Photography

soundtrack: robyn sherwell, landslide