If I Were You,_____

I'd be scared of people knowing what I say and do too!

"Your cousin doesn't want to speak to you about what she's been doing to you because she's afraid you'll write about it"

I cannot relate to that, it actually sounds like foolishness to me. I fantasize about the things I do and say being heard by others because I only do things I'm proud of. I know that's not the norm for people, I was uniquely gifted the opportunity to feel this way about my actions because my mother used humiliation as a discipline tactic for me. She didn't really beat me and rarely raised her voice, but she sure as hell threatened to embarrass me. Talking back? Ugly hair style for school. Misbehaving? She would tell my friends what I did the next day. Tantrum in public? She would shame me in front of everyone. Unorthodox, yes, but it shaped me into an incredibly thoughtful human being. It taught me that when I do something, I better be certain I'm okay with people finding out about it. I became careful with my thought processing, I became deliberate in my actions, and because of that, I am always proud of my choices. 

When my mother sent my father to relay the same stale excuses for me to continue a relationship with her, I couldn't help, but laugh. She taught me to be something she didn't even understand. Perhaps I should scream “Victor!”At her as a chase her to the ends of the Earth. It would be a waste of wit though. Had she understood what she was doing when she raised me this way, she would know that I have no empathy or tolerance for whatever form of cognitive dissonance leads to blaming one’s own bad behavior on someone else for fear they may disclose their malice to others. She raised me to know very well that I should only act in a way I am comfortable with other people being aware of. Those cannot do, teach. Right? 

Right. 

Though I don't empathize with sentiments of desperation to get away with behavior I am not proud of, inaction in the face of wrongdoing, or willingness to accept mistreatment for fear of lonesome; I can sympathize for it. I can talk to God and listen when he reminds me that without the failures of the people whom he placed my soul to spend it’s childhood with, I wouldn't be prepared for the great path he was created for me. I feel sympathy for their incapability to improve. If I were them, I'd be ashamed of myself too. I'd be horrified of people knowing what I do. I cannot imagine living in that kind of fear. It's a pity