Line me up for the flex

Easy to be upset, hard to forget. Less stress equals more blessed. Better tomorrow pressed. A known associate of mines, okay a family friend. Alright, my own ***** tried to set me up. Set me up how and for what you ask, a never-ending question the answer must be explored like a jungle not toured like a museum. History scattered, remains intact, feeling some thing is missing, hidden or too distant, keeps me driven. I drove right into a village whose history is a constant pilgrimage. Left behind, to play catch up, forgotten self sabotage makes sure a realization never adds up to the truth. Whatever that maybe for you. Justification to blame others for his problems. This is my answer, this essay written to fight the truth, disprove and let loose feelings forming into a noose. The conversation starts off regular, how was your day ? How are you today ? No, I didn’t know about that. Regularity sets the pace.

As I walk away, back turned heading down the stairs. He calls my name. Some what strange. Like he knew but, didn’t know who he was talking too exactly.  Since you heading that direction, go check in the bathroom, look up at the ceiling, tell me if water is dripping. Okay, you want what ? now ? Check the bathroom ceiling and see if water is still leaking. Still ? Without searching for it intentions subtly revealed. Intentions and outcomes is a wholesome meal. Let them tell you, instead of telling them what they are doing. Too many chefs ruin the pot and I like to eat a lot. I’ll hold this small spot on the ground and sit there. You’ll tell me everything you want me to hear. I’m prepared.

In the bathroom there is a bucket under the leak. Lord bucket, captured by mystique. Silent form of grief. When unable to speak, will be felt rolling in the sheets trying to sleep. A task already completed, my reasoning defeated, there I stood with a half empty bucket. Still didn’t see the issue we have time before we need to switch the bucket it out, when it doubt positivity comes out.

I come back up. Before I even tell him, he’s already answering his own questions. The water there ? It’s still leaking ? The bucket I put there filled ? Wasn’t fast enough to reply, listened to the rest of the monologue. He sucks his teeth, looks away and tightens his fist, rage locked in his glints. I ask…..

You just wanted me to tell you ?

No, no I just wanted to know if it was leaking and where the leak is coming from. Line me up for the flex, Shoot the messenger. Lately, whenever I enter the room the conversation turn frustration. Exit and it starts dissipating. To cope, I lie. Everyone just hating.

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