Victims, aren't we all?

We have all suffered at the hands of another; all have felt the quiet agony of betrayel, distrust, anger, hurt, and disenchantment. We taste the bitter flesh of sorrow and consume it, wallowing in our misery. We seek no solace, wish no comfort, and lash out at those that give it. We become numb to the anguish that is heaped upon us, day in and day out. We become a shell that will no longer endure the suffering, but becomes empty in retaliation.

The shell will exist and get through each day; acknowledging nothing, accepting nothing, and only crawling further onto the cross. It will hang in its woe. It will expect others to see and take pity. It will expect others to feel the same anger, the same burn of vengence. It will allow the numbness to fester and become a weeping sore; infected, oozing, and covering the entirety of the soul. There is no escape from the self pity and the denial of one's own place in the scheme.

The light at the end of the tunnel is elusive. Fingers reach and fall away, catching nothing. Redemption is beyond the grasp. Only through introspection and yes, further suffering, will we become enlightened and move on. Only when ones own sins are acknowledged and forgiven, will growth occur. Growth is necessary. Change is needed. Anger is a curse and a burden to be cast away.

Bitterness binds, like a shackle or a noose about the neck. It strangles the soul, devours the essense of who one truly is. It kills any chance of hope, redemption, and finally.. joy.

Betrayel does not last forever. Love can. Which do you embrace? Which do you center your world around? Which, truly, becomes you? Or, in the case of rancor, do you become it? You, the real you, dies. It is a death that can be avoided.

Come down off the cross.

We are all victims; all. Every... last... one.

Some just choose to get beyond it and be victims no more.

Do not be the forever victim, self pitying and full of woe.

You are defined, put into a box, categorized.. labeled. Every facet of life bears a tag. Wife, husband, lover, son, friend, companion, Pagan, Christian, enemy, acquaintance. Words, words, words to pigeonhole, not just what you do, but who you are and how you feel.

When circumstances change, all that truly changes is the narrow definition. You wear a new tag. You may feel the same, but your box bears a new name. From pregnant to mother, girlfriend, to fianceé, to wife; lover to husband to ex. The person is unchanged... just another label.

Every minute, every hour, every day someone supplies your label. The eyes that look upon you, ascertain or guess your very essense and apply a tag, based on what they see. It may or may not be accurate, but it is how you are percieved. You will have to fight to change that tag, no matter how ill fitting to your garment, your persona, yourself.

You, yourself, apply these indicators. You choose how things are branded. If that changes or shifts, so does the label. If you can find no perfect match, you are lost.. confused.. and uncentered. You need to find another category... somehow... some way.

We say we hate them. We say we don't want them, but they are what they are. They describe, define, and give us a haven amoung those who bear that same tag. Labels, words, definitions, stereotypes. They are what they are... and we need them.

... whether we like to admit it or not.