I can see for miles

by imnotyourfavoritepossession

You see it now. All the little things you weren’t seeing before are now glaringly obvious. You see the little ploys for what they are: moves in a game. It’s a little amusing even, to watch the twists and turns of the game unfold so predictably, if still completely nauseating.

You get tired of this. You don’t want to play games. This game contains all the metaphorical blows to the head you’ve incurred over the years. You’re sick of all the bullshit, but you’ve got to play the game. You’ll be playing the game anyway, so you’ve got to play and you’ve got to play it ON YOUR TERMS, so that it doesn’t drive you crazy, so it doesn’t destroy you, so that you block the left hooks so that they no longer land. Sure, playing the game wears on you, but not nearly as much as laying down and allowing yourself to be steamrolled.

You’re not a victim anymore. You’re a fighter.

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