Combat

I'm being attacked again. By who you may ask? Well her, of course. And him. And maybe a couple of thems thrown in here and there. What mistakes have I made? Should I defend myself against their attacks? Throw up a shield? I'm a thief, they say. I steal people's happiness. I ruin their plans. I don't fit in with the mold that they have made for the society they surround themselves with, and they accept me into their folds thinking I will bestow upon them continuous amusements. But I am not some circus freak, set to 'perform' on command. I am a human being with thoughts and feelings, with needs and wants. I am curious. Oh god, so curious. If I press this button, which ones will react in reflex? If I push this domino just a little, will the whole of the world fall like they have set it up to?

No, I think not, and so I push and prod, dissect and dance around how they think the world should run. And they hate me for it. They claim I do it on purpose, that I have no respect for the sacred sanctity of others. Wrong, wrong, wrong. I have dignity, by God. I come from the South, not the region, not the racism, but from the pride. I have known dignity and respect and pride beyond any that their feeble minds could even comprehend. I know of shameful shortcomings and family secrets swept under the rug. Caged inside of this pathetic exterior is the soul of a lady, who can set tables and throw parties, who can divine matches and help the poor and without. I have the power to be what they cannot, and yet, I have fallen into their traps and made it to where they cannot see this beyond my paltry actions.

I am a lady, not black, not gray, but Wendy the White. She can't understand this because she is trash, but I am not and will not fall to her useless tricks.