Time.
Time is a funny thing.
It watches.
Never interrupts.
Never picks sides.
Just sits in the corner of the room
like an old judge
taking notes while people destroy each other.
And time watched me.
For years.
It watched me apologize
for crimes I didn’t commit.
Watched me explain myself
to someone who had already decided the verdict.
Watched me stand in front of a woman
so committed to being right
that reality itself became negotiable.
Because some people don’t lie.
No.
That would require knowing the truth first.
Some people build entire kingdoms
out of their own reflection.
And every mirror in that kingdom
has one rule:
Never disagree.
Never question.
Never challenge the queen.
And God forbid
you tell her she hurt you.
Because somehow your wound
becomes her suffering.
Your pain
becomes her burden.
Your tears
become evidence of your cruelty.
And suddenly you’re standing there wondering
how the hell you became the villain
for bleeding from a knife
she swears she never held.
Time watched that too.
It watched every conversation
become a courtroom.
Every disagreement
become an indictment.
Every concern
become an attack.
Every attempt at honesty
become another reason
you should be ashamed of yourself.
I used to think it was confusion.
Miscommunication.
Stress.
Trauma.
I spent years searching for explanations.
Because when you love someone,
you don’t want to believe
they’re choosing the damage.
You tell yourself there’s a reason.
You tell yourself they’re hurting.
You tell yourself they’ll understand eventually.
But eventually never came.
Time made sure of that.
Eventually became next week.
Next month.
Next year.
And every year looked exactly like the one before it.
The same accusations.
The same victim speech.
The same performance.
The same script.
Different day.
Same damn play.
And everybody bought tickets.
Everybody.
Friends.
Family.
Strangers.
Hell, if she told a brick wall
she was the victim,
the wall would probably apologize.
Because that’s the magic trick.
Not accountability.
Not honesty.
Not self-awareness.
No.
The trick is making every story
start exactly where it’s convenient.
Leave out the provocation.
Leave out the disrespect.
Leave out the manipulation.
Leave out the thousand little cuts.
Then point at the bleeding man
and ask everyone why he’s so angry.
You ever notice that?
People love judging reactions.
Nobody wants to investigate causes.
Nobody asks what happened before the explosion.
Nobody asks how many times the fuse got lit.
They just hear the bang
and suddenly they’re experts.
And I am angry.
Damn right I’m angry.
I’m angry because I wasted years
trying to reason with someone
who thought accountability
was a personal attack.
I’m angry because every concern
became a character flaw.
Every emotion
became a weakness.
Every boundary
became a betrayal.
I’m angry because I spent so much time
trying to prove I was a good man
