The Ramblings of A Lunatic

Rant : 18

To Ms. M

Feels good to be a martyr. Feels good to sit back and watch the things you love crumble and waste away. Feels good only if you think you didn't deserve them in the first place.

First you're a martyr to your sisters joys. Then a martyr to your mother's. Next thing your martyring for all those things that you've never even believed in. 'Please, you first' ; is, really just code for 'Please, me second, third or not at all' .

You wonder if they even love you if they don't want to put you first. Because you put them first. You always put them first. That's just the way you show them that you love them, right? There's nothing wrong with that...

The problem with your putting others first is that they begin to think that you belong in second place. The more you do it, the more will they. They will keep putting you second until you begin to believe you belong there and no further. That you are a convenience. And that you have no rights over the place that you marked out to be holy.

Beware, my little butterfly. They will do this to you. Never forget that for as long as you are there, they will never show you that you matter. They probably won't even show it to themselves.

But a part of them begins to rely on you. Rely on your sacrifices. So, when you leave, in quiet hurt and silent tears. You leave with a little piece of them. They will look for you and they will look for themselves in every other that they meet. They will not know it is you they are looking for, they'll never know that they themselves are a little lost. But they will look for you...

So leave butterfly. Flit on a few more flowers. Never settle too long on one. I know your wings are tired. I know each breath is a gasp. But flitter little butterfly. Flitter. For each sip of nectar-pleasure will weigh you down with pollen grains of pain.