It still hurts, every time. I feel the betrayal, because when I met you, I thought you were better, but as is always the case with those like you, it doesn’t take long for the mask to slip.
You paint me with the sharp bristles of, weak, crazy, disloyal, interfering, too soft, sensitive, you are trying to put the focus on me, to avoid any of it being on you. I understand it, I see it, and that is why you hate me, that is why your face turns that particular shade of red, that is why you try turn others against me, because I see you. Not the suit or the jokes or the thin layer of false confidence, I see YOU. The real you, weak and afraid of failure, unable to accept accountability, unable to grow into a full person, stuck as an angry child forever, bullying those weaker than you to feel the tiniest bit of power. How transparent and flimsy the veneer is, desperately trying to hide the gaping hole where your character should be. I learned early to see the mask that hides brutality, nothing inside but rage, unable to feel empathy or compassion or anything more real than anger. I almost pity you, how empty it must be, how unfulfilled you are. Vomiting your rage onto all around you like bile, those who cannot stand up to you, beating them and breaking them, attempting to fill the void inside you. They trusted you, they looked up to you, they didn’t see you.
Justifying it to yourself and others any way you can, desperately grasping at straws of blame, leaking poison into the very ground you walk on. Spreading misery but that is all you know, you want everyone to feel the way you feel, empty and angry. The less aware, and those in denial, believe you for a time, at least they nod along with you, but I cannot, I am not convinced, I know there is no justification for hurting people, vulnerable people, people you have power over. It was a choice you made, and continue to make, to be cruel. i have seen you before bough, you are not unique, I have witnessed angry men, no more substantial than paper, countless times, some of them running countries. I see the emptiness behind your eyes, just hollow vanity, false confidence hiding fear.
Have you seen me before paper man? I doubt it, not many have had to learn the lessons that I have. I have survived you before, I have risen above you before, you are just like the rest, your behaviour straight from the bully playbook. I have chosen to be the antithesis of you, everyday, I choose kindness, I choose strength. I choose to stand here and hold up this mirror, forcing you and others to see who you really are, a shadow of a person, no substance. It takes no strength to bully a weaker person, it takes a lot of strength to stand up for one. I choose to stand here, in the face of the insults, the gaslighting, the attempts at isolation, I stand up, I will always stand up. This is not the first nor the last time. Is it easy? No, it isn’t easy. It is hard each time. I see you, breaking them down, I close my eyes, I take a breath, do I have the strength for this? It would be so much easier to keep my eyes closed, to cover my ears, to shrink a bit, to keep my mouth shut. Others want me to keep my eyes closed, it would be so much easier, they are afraid of you. But I am me, I am never going to be the person who keep their eyes closed, and so I stand up, I stand up because your victims can’t. I stand when told to sit back down, I stand though I am tired, my heart beats faster and my hands shake but I stand, I will not move.
The fight. Is over, there are no winners, I have taken blows and I am licking my wounds, you are telling yourself you won because your insecurity demands it, but this time, for once, you met a me, you were seen, maybe, just maybe someone else saw you too, and learned what a paper man looks like. Maybe next time they meet one they will see through him and maybe one day they will stand too.
Most importantly, as I lie here beaten and bruised, I know that it will always be worth it. Your victims saw me stand up, they saw you, they know that you are the broken one, you are the empty one, you are the scared one. Your victims know that they are not at fault despite your poisonous lies. I have undone the damage that you have done. I have lifted them up when you tried to push them down. Your victims will grow, they will become strong, and one day they will be a me, they will see the paper men, because you are all the same, you are not unique from the next bully, you are not more intelligent or more charming or more qualified, you are just a copy. You are a copy of paper men before you, perhaps one of them made you this way, because you didn’t have a me, but this is not an excuse. When I was a victim of a paper man, I didn’t have a me either, but I chose to make peace with my rage, I chose love. I chose to make the world better every day and not worse. Instead of choosing to become paper like you, I chose to be the one who stands.
Tarryn Anne Wood
Kindness is not weakness
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