“decide,” you say.

you’ve been on repeat for a while now, coaxing and demanding, sulking and reasoning, imploring and hoping.

it’s not the kind of decision i make lightly, you know this by now. i’m cautious by nature, endlessly thinking on every step before i take it. it’s make-or-break for me and sometimes i think you know it.

you just like trying to push me over that little edge.

(is it any wonder i’m uncertain?)

“just a little longer,” i promise. “i’ll decide soon”, and you don’t notice that the sincerity wore off long ago. my promises no longer hold weight, just anticipation and impatience.

a tiny bit of me enjoys drawing it out, not that i would ever tell you this. there’s a thread of amusement every time, the kind that wonders how gullible you can be and how cold i can be.

(it’s a lot)

and you think yourself the hero, or the villain in this story. it’s a thing you tend to do, casting yourself in roles that aren’t rightly yours.

(don’t you know i’d never cast you as either?)

only you get tired of waiting, bored and wanting everything i don’t. it’s your call to find some new way to stop wanting so much – your call to get so deeply involved that you begin to forget.

allow for human error, won’t you?

we’re at the precipice now, the tiny edge of something or nothing, and your words would sting and bite, clawing at me if i allowed them to. we stand here and you are a villain with no game plan, no deadly weaponry. all you have is your words and you wield them most inelegantly.

i don’t like what i see in your eyes – you think yourself a most effective anti-hero but you are not.

you forget that i am villainess and heroine, lead character in my every story, and i have had many years more experience in these matters.

(at least try to hide your thoughts –

but good on you for finally getting some backbone)

so you snap and snarl, yanking at the threadless tether still in the air and i am silent, allowing you your moment.

here is my secret: your words would hurt, if i cared enough for that to happen.

the tether breaks – only it was never truly there to begin – and i am falling from the edge, flying, free.

4 thoughts on “retraction”

  1. Spectacular, spectacular. The voice is pitch perfect, the ‘attitude’ flowing and captivating. In such a way that the speaker becomes so clearly both villaniness and heroine. The ending given such depth to liberation filled with all its contradictions.


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