And every anger is a moment in hesitation: where do you stand on the verge of?
Why do you turn away (as my father did and still does in my mind, turning forever away, his shoulder forever turning into infinity, my father infinitely abandoning me), how could you commit this sin to me to us, shunting us into a corner of silence, the most unbearable silence, one of distinction, you had done it on purpose, you went out of your way to silence me to silence it: don’t give me this shit about not wanting to say something that you can never take back: you already thought it and the turning back was already gone from that moment on: when you already have closed your mind to any other point of view other than your own, when that is where your being ends and the other side of the world begins, if you end at you and there is no one else to consider, than you didn’t have to say anything at all. Then, on top of everything else: “if i lived on my own i wouldn’t have this: i wouldn’t have to answer to anyone.”
Wake the fuck up. Or better yet: do you know what you have done?