You let the crazy out in bits.
I used to vomit the crazy at my S.O.'s. Fuckin' can't love me at my _______ you don't deserve me at my ------. No one is going to love you at eleven all the time.
I would launch the ugliness at them because I didn't want it to sneak up on them and drive them away in the night. That had happened before to be sure.
More than just burning the grass around my moat though, I wanted the high tower to see all, "Tell me about every awful thing, do it or fuck off." An awful tit for tat to see who could outlast this cocksucker we call life.
Took me years to realize that you have to let the crazy out in bits. Pick your battles, spare the innocents, at least from time to time.
We've been together for over a year and I told her why the idea of owning goldfish is something I can't wrap my head around. It was ugly, awful, but isolated and easy to digest because it was just one of the things that was done to me.
You let the flowers out of the attic one at a time, when they're ready to come out. You acknowledge it and say thank you and let it go because there is NOTHING you can do about any of it now.
