Trophy

I blame myself for letting you in. I left the door wide open for you. You chased me down and beat me with a stick. A blindfolded piñata. I was the prize.

Look at it!

Look at what I caught!

You raged. All the while shushing me. I was to remain silent in a triumphant victory so that the other trophies wouldn’t feel bad, that there was yet again another. I too would be put on that shelf and watch in horror as the next one was added after. Then she too would watch you complete the same psychotic process. Stuck on a never ending loop. Insanity looks like “your” normal, when that’s all you know to do.

Just to feel anything at all.