On Life and Love

This is why they love me.

People seem to love me for my responses. If you poke me, I may squeal. If you sneak up behind me at work, I will become flustered and distracted. I get worked up, I giggle, I laugh, I frown. I’m a walking, talking, entertainment center.

Tonight two of my friends learned of another one of my responses. It’s the one where I pull a blade on someone–and don’t back down, despite further violence–when I ask them to stop touching me and they do not. I do my best to let things like this slide without overreacting; I know that not everyone backs off at a twitch or a flinch. This is what words are for.

There are some buttons–deep buttons that are moderately hard to find–that I do not enjoy having pressed. I am still shaking and sick to my stomach despite a 50-mile drive and good loud music and much screaming. I don’t think I’m going to be sleeping well tonight.

Some folks don’t ever take a pulled knife/blade lightly. Maybe they shouldn’t also take a “no” so lightly, either.