factors

Factors change. I hate it when they do, mostly because they cause a pattern of hypocrisy and heighten complications. Sometimes the factor is a winter hat. Appearances, attitudes, atmosphere. What looked regular can become extraordinary in the blink of an eye or the rise of someone else’s power. And then you see a window of what was lost, missed or misunderstood. Standing in front of you like a reminder that you always knew a good man. Cried yourself to sleep wishing for one while a short walk requiring little more than a pair of slippers could take you to the appropriate residence of one. Then, the factors cause the feelings – to change. And you can’t take it back, but you push it back until it’s a jittery bug in your throat. Hi becomes h-h-huh-hi. Touch becomes meaningful. You pray no one notices even a small bit of the great big electrocution covering your skin. What you thought you knew, you never did. Because that’s not what it was about then and not what it is about now. When the factors were trivial, jovial – you imbecile – you were too busy having fun to get it. Now the theme is deeper, the conversation softer – you stalker – and you’re hooked to a drug you’ve been taking for years without side effects. Shit.

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[Manzo el Magnifico]

Is this piece about self-loathing or blame?