Why is She Fighting So Hard?

Some days I get a little angry.
Some days I get a little rebellious.
I don’t know why.
Some days I get extremely angry,
almost enraged,
and I still don’t know why.

The hate can be buried too deep to see,
But I can feel it just enough to know it’s there.
Some days I get furious and I know it’s me.
I’m what I’m angry at.
Some days I absolutely despise myself.
These days are when something inside
goes on the warpath.

It would be nice to imagine
that maybe when my Tiny Contrarian
(That little fighter buried in me somewhere)
is stirring, she’s actually fighting on my behalf:
she wants me to stand, to push back;
she wants me to live.
Not just live, really, but
live proudly.

But instead, it often feels like she’s
railing against me,
hating me savagely from skin to bone,
trying to ruin me from the inside.
She creeps through capillaries,
saws her way into my brain,
and tries to smash through my walls.
Sometimes she drops bombs on my villages,
laughing gleefully as she razes
building after building after building.

I throw sugar into the rivers that transport her,
thickening them,
hoping to slow her travels.
I beat her onto hard counters and door frames,
hoping to stun her.
I create my own miniature battlefields with knives,
hoping to distract her and pull her away
to a place where she can do less damage.

We share a heartbeat.
Her lifeblood is bound to mine.
If I end her for good,
I lose the war with her.
The best I can hope for now
is to put her to flight or sleep
long enough to grant me respite.
When she rests,
I must take advantage of the
resources freed by the brief ceasefire.
I need to become a wise tactician,
one who can strategize her way
to greater victory.
I need to become clever enough to
trick her into submission
so I can chain her arms,
bind her legs,
get my hands around her throat,
and present my ultimatum:

Join my side.

Fight for me.

If you don’t, I’m going down,
and I’m taking you down with me.

October 31, 2024