“I can’t figure out just what to do when he cause and cure is you.”
How do you do it? Despite the strength I feel in my busy moments, I find myself weak because of you.
All it requires is a minute inconsistency in the otherwise streak-free immaculateness of my emotional armor. With subconscious precision, you find that imperfection and aim your lance inently upon it. Where the lance’s keen tip should have glanced off, it now catches, giving you the required leverage to knock me free of my saddle.
And here I sit, a petulant child, pouting as I rub my injured chest.
It is in those quiet moments that you find your way into my thoughts. While the sting no longer knocks me off my horse, it is enough to break my stride.
This is the part where I tell myself to grow up, “man up,” and move on.
Don’t worry, it’s not you.