Addendum to Everything

These words I share with you saved me.
From the first post to the last and subsequent ones. I sorted through what I could when I could. He told me he could not understand what I was saying. I begged for feedback and critique. Even the writers he and I knew backed away. I thought he was right, I was some sort of mistake, an error in God's judgement. (I still have a hard time buying the God thing. Like any walking and waking human.) But I feel now. Something outside of constant fear. The shame comes in waves. It isn't me hiding behind a wall of everything's okay. It was not okay. It still isn't. I feel a little less burdened. I feel foolish for trusting them. Even then I didn't, really, but I knew and learned the consequences for questions outside of his 1800 square foot prison. I tried. Told the DJ I was going to leave. The fireman (!) saw, heard, felt, benefitted, and walked. I called for backup from the apple of his eye. No one moved. Were we all paralyzed under the thumb of a coke-fueled bully? Now everyone I cared for then outside of Michigan's middle class Sade won't speak. He's the only one who still follows. Electronically. I thought for forever that they punished the unlikable there, up North. The poor and the black and the fat and the foolish. I know it isn't me. But what is it? None of your business? It is everyone's business when something like this happens to anyone. This is the law of a decent humanity. Are we not decent people? I know I am. Like anyone would, I try to piece together the puzzle. Find the guilty. I don't have a badge or a gun. I just want to settle things in my mind. No one speaks. Just me. And the tyrant. (I am now not ashamed for dancing and singing.) The trauma sticks for life but tonight, at least, I sang.

Under Pressure...both parts. Beautifully.