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It's like realizing you are being watched, only more. Being watched is one thing, being watched with intent is another. Is there one being put in the tube for me, is it silver, if both, is the intent an end or a beginning? I do not know, not for sure, I just realize that some bullets merely... enslave. I can't believe that. Then again, when you show signs and have a certain set of gifts, a new potential can open. Terrifying, all of it, and yet not at all. The terrifying part is getting from a to c. Or even just to point a in order to truly contemplate then moving to point b, then c.
Doing the right thing is a bloody messy hard harsh affair. And yet it's so tantalizing, once one has come to a faith that is more like a surety. But there is the doing which remains. She haunts my future, others haunt my past. Guilt, but even if I do it right there will be shades of guilt. Not without much forgiveness, on both sides. Quite a trick. Can't win, but if true, can't lose. It's not a riddle, it's falling off a log. It's not resisting at the right moments, and resisting when that is right.
Never mind. Just feeling a little hemmed in. Skirts seem to work together. You might be able to fool, or cow, a single woman. But you are lost against the sisterhood, the old feminism that was a right thing, that fought for family, and right pay for men to be able to raise a family, and such. They are almost everywhere, they see everything. Sometimes they think I can't see them. Many men can't, or don't. I do... for... reasons. Can't be part of it, but I can see it. And they are watching, with intent... but... what intent? Or do I just not quite wish to know?
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