Man, this blog kicks my ass without even trying. You know all five of the people out there that actually read this thing must intimidate the hell out of me!
This post has been barely started and then barely restarted twice now. But I guess my friend Michael would tell me to just let it go. As in just write it and send it off. What’s the worst that could happen? That I have only four readers left after that?
And so there it goes, to say I offer some small proof that a woman is her own worst enemy. Probably every guy already knew that. That she would somehow brainwash herself into thinking that no future post could ever be worth anything. Because she’s not in school any more, no longer an editor, that she hasn’t been really published in… years.
That a woman must get so angry as to injure a man, to nearly maim another woman. And the reasons are far from obvious. That it takes another woman to try to stop that hurt. To try to stop that fight. That it takes a man to forgive. That maybe it takes another woman to understand.
That a young woman so sensitive to the life of all creatures. That the passing of numerous pets is so torturous to her own soul. That it takes another woman to soothe. To try to explain. To understand another’s empathy and show sympathy.
A strong young woman losing another much-loved strong woman. A woman in pain. A woman who needs you to let go.
That it would take a woman to bury the hatchet. But a woman will hold a grudge. She will sever the ties and the blood that should be thicker…