i am not a fighter.

i hate competition and combat. i rarely see its merit {unless there is crime committed or an innocent victim needs defense.} i definitely own up to that part of me who cringes at one-on-one confrontation, typically involving hearsay, emotional filters, gossip and other arbitrary, childhood contaminants which further pollute the embryonic squawk at hand. 

it would be different if it were in a courtroom though. i’d be great in a courtroom, with witnesses and tactile evidence, and of course, a fabulous philip lim suit: 

“your honor, i’d like to present exhibit number 13: the conversation that took place on october 17, 2008, at 0-two-hundred-hours, in the city of …….., at the starbucks, on the corner of misread and not listening.”

indisputable, concrete proof of grievances which could be dissected, analyzed, judged and juried. 

unfortunately this is not how hurts and personal sads are balmed over. there is no neosporin for the ego convinced he or she has been abandoned. hearts grieve, tempers rage, and misunderstandings grow vaster and more creviced, like the san andreas fault…..just waiting for another earth shattering, devastating, life altering, quake. 

such a pity. such a waste. 

 i have always lived believing that one doesn’t necessarily have to raise the roof to voice their side of things in order to be brave or just. for me, silence isn’t a lack of arsenal but rather a preference for peace.

this is only my choice. 

but i actually feel quite strong standing on these, wobbly chicken legs.

wishing you a weekend of peace and of course, love.

see you on the other side of sunday.