The Humble Soul

 Do I have it? By all means I do not.

Frenemies are reaching out with their minds but I am deaf to the echos their minds produce. Or are those the noise of my own mind? I should have a humble soul. I should forgive. Maybe I have but the poison of anger is still there. Still angry, still harboring anger or to be precise - it’s not anger - it’s resentment. Long bitter resentment preventing me from bowing my head down in front of those who by hurting my friends hurt me too, though colaterally.  

My wounded soul still tries to heal. The clock ticking should be a reminder to me of time’s passing and I should shudder at the fact how time is getting scarce. Maybe I am being foolish. Bygone are bygones. Or are they really? 

However, their silence tells me they let me go. They let me be how I want to be. Bitter or small. Doesn’t matter which. It’s all the same. Bitterness, resentment - they make you small and cold.

So yes I should humble myself before them. They are the best frenemies I will ever have. Shame on me for writing frenemies. But that’s how I still feel about them. Enemies are  cold. Friends are warm. They feel neither cold nor warm. Maybe lukewarm. Am I better than them? Me who will be at supper. Where I’ll be eaten. At supper for worms. Poor Yorick. There will be no one there to mourn him.

If I am honest, I think deep down unbeknownst to me that I am superior. That’s too bad. (Because superiority shits on relationships.) So all the more reason to humble myself. So be it.