Talkin’ to me. Oh! Cowardice human being.
“Some people have never had a job tasting pies,” you say and follow it up with, “But not you. The last time you had a job you were in high school. So I’m not talkin’ to you.”
You’re not Talkin’ to me. You’re talking at me. I felt the attended assault coming from one with low self-esteem. Full of pain—thought you were hurting me, but you were revealing your face.
“Some people never had a job tasting pies,” you say.
You’re so right. I don’t taste pies for a living, but for those who do, what does that have to do with you? Next, you say, “I find you to be a very negative person.”
I say, “As long as you find me. That’s very kindly.” You can’t deal with reality. If I can’t talk to you, I can’t talk to nobody. You were home when I arrived. I say, “My money is ha ha ha…ing me.”
You say, “I’ve been talkin’ to you for an hour, and you haven’t said one positive thing. Oh, but you ain’t by yourself. The line you stand in is full of people putting their keys in envelopes and returning them to the bank, but don’t come here…. there is no work ……..Blah, Blah, Blah………………….
Your words reflect your pain; although, your intent is to berate. I left your environment years ago. You’re the queen in the mind of the uniform. You have lost sight of humanity because of the things…….the things…..the things……..that don’t mean a thing.
It wasn’t me who spoke negatively. Your heart is full of jealousy. Are you really the person you want to be? You are unqualified to inflict your pain upon my soul. You see, I understand that I don’t own a thing, my question to you is, “Why is the bank receiving the keys?”
The things…………..the things…………the things………..
Does the bank own the things? The bank may be here to take ownership of the things….the things…when I’m gone. I’ve been on that road. That’s how I know. Life happens so quickly that even Queens bequeath
There is an operation system in my body that I can’t see. The heart pumps blood through my veins to my brain. Oxygenation is a serious thing. I simply breathe in and breathe out. The design of the body is art—and I’m not the Artist! But I’m in tune to the inner.
As for qualities such as compassion, too many people are lacking and slacking. As far as tasting pies, what is your favorite flavor? We share blood—genetics, but why do you have a hatchet? You want to see me in a casket?
I love you, but you see me through tainted eyes, and I do not accept your definition of me. Man doesn’t read hearts and minds. Your ambition exceeds your abilities. Lighten your load. You are precious. Handed full responsibility that you generously accepted. You, the divine one, by appointment of being the first. You give much to our link and that I appreciate. The link is not interested in my gifts or in me. Your first mistake was not believing what you seen. With that said, I give people what they can handle and no more.
Tasting pies is a superficial ingestion to many but poison to me. Face lifts vs. spirit lifts. I’ll take the latter. Kind words and simple acts of kindness lifts the spirit. Now I’m on my stepping ground. I don’t treat people the way you treat me, and that is the blessing of being bah bah black sheep.
I am Vivian Dixon Sober from what lineage? Polluted! Abusive! So I Finally Let Go. You know. It’s all about me. I’m talking to you—not at you.
Talkin’ at Me vs. Talking to Me!
Vivian Dixon Sober
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