I'll Get Me A Dog
Photo by Leonardo Merlo on Pexels The empathy I carry is not a gift. It’s a lit match I keep handing to people and then acting surprised when they burn me with it. I give them my trust like I have an endless supply, like the last one didn’t really cost me three months of sleep and a version of myself I’m still trying to find. I don’t need a blind admiration. If I need it, I’ll get me a dog. People don’t want to be known anymore. They want to be worshipped. Seen from a flattering angle, never too close, never in bad lighting, never on their worst Tuesday. They’ll take your applause and call it love, take your attention and call it a relationship. They wouldn’t mind being objectified as long as it comes with enough warmth, as long as nobody asks if any of it is real. Most of them prefer admiration over respect, and they don’t even flinch about it. And me, I see their red flags, and I think potential. I see the wreckage of them, and I think I can help. That’s...
