QUARANTINE LIFE: STAND STILL

The people who horribly wronged you haven’t forgotten what they have done. They never will.

Your continued presence won’t allow them to. 

They are always afraid that you will, one day, retaliate. 

Because they are incapable of remorse; because they continue to excuse what they’ve done; because they think it was right and necessary, they don’t care about your humanity, and can’t see the past, present, and future damage they’ve inflicted. 

They’re tired of feeling guilty and ashamed. They know the score will never be even. They’ll erase history before they dare tell it accurately.

If only you’d retaliate, and give them the fight they've been itching for, they could justify their hatred, and projection, and put their guilt to rest.

They know what they would have done if the tables were turned. Why won’t you suit up so they can say, “I told you so!”?
To them, you are a constant threat. They must protect themselves. 

Bizarre, isn’t it?

They’re fearfully waiting on you to become them. The longer they wait, the more unhinged they become. 

Your grace, patience, and forgiveness insulates and strengthens you. It is corrosive to them.

Surely you must think the way they do. 

Surely your heart must be as cold and callous as theirs. 

They’re always waiting for you to stoop as low, or lower, so that they can further excuse their wrongdoing. 

If they could convince themselves that you asked for it, or deserved it, they could sleep better, but they can’t. They know their evil was and is unprovoked.

They know the depth of their wrongdoing, and your insistence on taking the high road, hurts them more than if you DID strike back. 

Their own consciences, and the lies they tell themselves, are driving them mad. 
They NEED you to fight, wile out, and take up arms. They’re daring you to be the inhuman, uncivilized heathen they think, and have always said you are. 

Your peace baffles them, so they pick and prod, and instigate. 

Your temperament is a mystery. They have no way to gauge your anger. 

They live with guilt and shame for what they’ve done, and that soon ferments into terror. 

They have to brand you an enemy. 

Eventually, that terror makes them see themselves as victims. 

In spite of all they have perpetrated, they think THEY need and demand protection from YOU. 

They brace, and arm themselves. 

They engage under false pretenses. 

They infiltrate and spy. 

Their obsession causes them to minimize the evil they’ve done, and set out to demonize you. 

They feverishly control the narrative of what happened, and paint themselves as vulnerable. 

Everything you do is provocative— walking, running, eating, sleeping, shopping, sitting, earning, talking, driving, laughing, living, BEING. 

Your success and accomplishments, in spite of their actions and hatred toward you, infuriates them. 

How is it that you still exist? 

How are you still sane?

Their fear makes them paranoid. Though they boast of their superiority, you are a constant reminder of their lowest selves; their worst instincts, and their shameful, embarrassing history. 

They have to attack you. 

You continue to stand still. Your weapons are not visible. Your warrior is greater. You don’t have to fight. You are TRUTH. 

They are dumbfounded.
Why won’t you strike back? 

Why won’t you fight back? 

Haven’t they told everyone who will listen how awful you are?

 

Hoping that you will take the bait, they find new ways to provoke. That way, they can justify annihilating you, and somehow soothe their battered consciences, hardened hearts, and damned souls. 

They’re so busy coming after you, that they don’t see the destruction they’ve brought upon themselves. In their effort to rid their world of you, they have done themselves and their communities irreparable damage. Their hatred has cost them.

There is a contingent that used to look away; that didn’t see your cause as their own. They are being affected, and now, you are finding support coming from the most unlikely places. 

Stand still. Neither vengeance, nor the battle are yours.