All posts by HG Tudor

I am letting you see my worldview for your own protection.

But Why?

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I have heard this said so many times, read about it from bewildered and perplexed people and know from experience the confusion that accompanies this question.

“But how could he do this to me after everything else? But why would he behave like this? But who would do such a thing as that? He said he loved me. I know he loved me. How does someone love someone else in such a perfect way and then act as if he does not even know them?”

I have written about how the empath likes to know everything. This is not because you are big-headed or wish to boast. You like to know everything in order to allow you to help. You need to understand a situation. It has to make sense to you. You must be able to comprehend what has happened and find some logical reason for the occurrence. This is why you spend so long trying to work us out. This is why when we are doling out the silent treatment you need to ascertain why we are doing it (I think now you understand we do it because we need to, not because there is a valid (according to your reality) reason for this behaviour). It is a natural empathic reaction. If you understand why something has happened you can then consider the ways in which it can be addressed, remedied and fixed. You want everything to be alright.

Accordingly, when our devaluation is unleashed against you it comes out of nowhere. Yesterday we held hands as we walked through the park together and kissed beneath the spreading oak. Today you have been subjected to a nasty period of name-calling and blaming. You are dumbfounded. Where on earth did that come from? In your reality it makes no sense at all. One minute every is okay,nothing changes but then suddenly we are being horrible to you. It just does not add up. It makes no sense. It gets worse.Not only does it not follow in a logical sense since our response (viewed in your reality remember) seems random, how can a person who says he loves you then batter you with his fists, lock you out of your home, sleep rape you, smash up your car, spit on you and so on? Not only is it not a normal sequence of events if you love somebody then you just do not do that, do you?

This is what makes it so difficult for you to comprehend. We have conned you into thinking that we loved you. We gave you the huge seduction and dazzled you with the golden period. We know what you perceive love to be and we gave it to you in spade loads all manufactured by Narc Inc. Our production line went into over time creating these false acts and hollow declarations of love but you fell for it. You always do. Accordingly, you were duped into thinking that we loved you so that when we begin to devalue you it flies completely in the face of what you understand to be the situation.

You will sit for hours with your close friends and recite example after example of all the wonderful things that we have said and done and then ask,

“How can he hurt me when he loves me so much?”

It is utterly perplexing. Naturally there is method in this madness. If it made sense, if there was a logical reason for this volte face you are more likely to accept it and walk away. This twisted and nonsensical logic is purposefully designed to keep you with us because:-

  • You must know what has happened and make sense of it
  • You want to make things right
  • You want the wonderful golden period again
All of this keeps you right besides us. Guess what? We dole out even more awful behaviour and it still does not make sense and you still do not go. We give you a glimpse of the golden period and your confusion increases. He does still love me I knew it. Then the door is slammed shut and you are left confused yet again but even worse this time, the brief return to the golden period has given you additional hope. You still do not go.
For once, rather than looking at it through your own eyes, consider it from our point of view. The devaluation does not come out of nowhere. It does to you but not to us. It happens because you are not giving us our fuel in the strength, quantity and frequency we demand. That is the logic behind our change in behaviour.
Why is it then that we are able to hurt you when we love you so much? Again, look at it through our eyes and the answer is straight forward. We never loved you. Accordingly, we are not affected by what appears (in your world) to be a hurtful and contradictory shift in our behaviour. Let me help you further. To us you are just an appliance. Initially because this appliance does what we want we look after it. We clean it, maintain it and take pride in it. Then it goes wrong. It is too much effort to try and repair it. We are horrible to you in order to make you work in a different way rather than trying to repair you to run as normal. Remember how people would slap the side of their television to make it work or give the washing machine a kick in the hope of causing it to run properly? You are just the same. You are an appliance and we give you a boot be it figurative or literal to make you provide us with fuel of a negative nature. We eventually get fed up that you are not working as we want you to so we chuck you on the scrap heap like so many discarded fridges, computers and washing machines. We have seen a new, shiny model which has attracted our attention instead.
So when you sit and wonder why this devaluation has happened, why our behaviour makes no sense and how can it be that someone who expresses such perfect love can be so hurtful, you know the answer. It makes no sense in your world but every sense in our world where you are just an appliance. Perhaps you had better start thinking about making some self-improvements and increasing your longevity yes?

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Your World In My Eyes

 

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I want you to look into my eyes and there you will find yourself. You will see everything that you have ever desired in my eyes. Every hope you have will shine from my eyes, everything you have every wanted will be visible to you. However, you will not look on the ordinary version of those things that you covet. You will see the enhanced variety, the shining and gleaming types of those things which you hold dear. I want you to stare deep into my eyes and focus on what you find there. Allow yourself to become absorbed by those deep pools of desire as you begin to lose yourself. It is only natural to want to fall into what you see, to let go of those constraints and inhibitions so that you become consumed totally by what you are looking upon. No harm can come of it for you are only staring at the very things which matter to you. Honesty, humility, humour and desire. Integrity, values and passion. Everything which you regard as a virtue can be seen in the world that I have created in my eyes. What you tell me, both directly and indirectly, will invariably come into your view within a matter of moments. It is like a far flung barren planet which has been discovered by intergalactic explorers who commence terraforming of the planet in order to make it habitable. Everything you want becomes a reality as they are formed in this world right before you. The interests you have appear; the places you enjoy visiting come into view and the events that you like to attend flare up. You are hypnotised as this wonderful world forms in my eyes, all generated by you although you are so taken by the process and what you see that you do not realise that all I am doing is taking the materials that you are furnishing me with and replicating all those things that you want to see. I am skilled in ensuring you tell me everything about yourself to add to all the preparatory work that I undertook before I made my move. Like ingredients in a particularly delicious cocktail I combine all of these things which matter to you and weave my magic to create a drink which you will never want to stop drinking. It is intoxicating and invigorating, an addictive concoction that once you have taken your first sip you will continue to draw deep on. You have no chance to escape because from the moment I cause you to look deep into my eyes I show you all the things that you want. I show you the world where you are queen, where nothing will ever hurt you, where your true worth has been recognised by me. This world is perfect. Everything is in its place and accords with your values. You ever stop to question how is it that I have been able to create this world so accurately and so brilliantly. You do not query how this creation is so magnificent because it is everything that you have always wanted. From the fairy tale existence you promised yourself as a young girl through to the correct treatment that you deserve as the decent person that you are, everything appears on this world which I have tailor made for you. It is captivating, mesmerising and alluring. You want this world more than anything you have ever known. You want to be absorbed by it and to fall deep into its fabric, cossetted by the security that it provides. Nothing goes wrong on this world, it is a clear utopia and best of all it is right there before you. All you need to do is maintain my gaze, letting yourself fall deep, deep into this marvellous world and everything will be alright. Everything will remain wonderful.

What you never realise is that this world will be consumed in an instance. In just one blink, this utopia will be obliterated and it will be as if it never existed. The dark inky pools that are the reality of these eyes will devour this created world, erasing it just as readily as a black hole consuming a planet. Once again the darkness will take hold and annihilate the fabrication which you held so dear. Even when this happens you will go on searching though. You will stare deep into my eyes, trying to find this world again amidst the ink-black darkness. There is no light that can shine any longer which may just happen to illuminate where this world has gone to. The darkness is absolute because it is the darkness that is the reality. Not that it will stop you trying. You will keep looking and searching, trying to find the perfect world once again, hoping for it to emerge into the light once again. You will keep trying and that is why we show you the world in our eyes.

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Scapegoat

 

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“You don’t want to end up like him do you now?”

Years later those words still echo through my mind. They act as some cruel guardian which ensures that I will never stumble, never flounder and never fall victim to the injustices which this world has in store for me. I was shown what happens to those who are weak, those who fail to seize control and grasp the power for themselves. The consequences of failure were paraded before me on an almost daily basis to allow me to witness the full horror of what it was to be sub-standard, below par and just not good enough.

I knew that this fate must not befall me and that it became necessary for me to clamber higher than everybody else no matter what it took or what the cost was. So long as there was somebody underneath me on that ladder as I climbed, then, as they saying goes, the devil would take the hindmost.

Onwards and upwards, climbing higher and higher to escape the consequences of vulnerability, weakness and failure. I was given a swift induction into learning how to stay ahead and protect myself. There were two routes available to ensure that you stayed number one and the best. Strive to stay ahead of the opposition and by the opposition I was taught that this means everybody else and furthermore bring the opposition down so that they become subsumed into the quagmire of failure.

If your opponent is taller, chop him off at the knees. If he is better looking, fling acid in his face. If he is smarter, batter his brains out. If he is stronger, poison him into weakness. If he is wealthier, sap him of penny and cent. If he lives in a pleasant place, pollute the neighbourhood. If he has a good job, get him sacked. Figuratively speaking some of the time of course and that means to do all of those things, that it is necessary to play the scapegoat card. Become proficient at pointing the finger elsewhere, cultivate persuasiveness so that the allocation of blame falls on the shoulders of another, practise plausible deniability so the mantle of fault never rests on my head. Never be the one at fault. Ever. Those were my instructions.

The indoctrination continued. You are not to blame, you are not guilty, you are not the problem, you did not cause the problem either. Erase sorry from your vocabulary as you do not feel it, remove the idea of apologising as you have nothing to apologise for, do not express anything which might be regarded as guilt as that is an alien concept.

There is always somebody else who can be blamed. It does not take long for the repeated mantra of it never being my fault to engender that sense of impregnability and a lack of accountability. Since it is the fault of everyone else it is impeccable logic is it not that it can never be my fault? It therefore follows that if it is never my fault then such a fault-free individual is truly superior and stands above all others.

To facilitate this it therefore becomes necessary to identify a scapegoat or more accurately scapegoats. The role of scapegoat slots seamlessly into our thinking. Fault is an intangible concept but it exists. Someone is always to blame. I was taught that from the beginning. Things do not just happen, they happen for a reason and the reason that she was always crying, that he was always failing, that they were socially ostracised, that she could not pass her exam, that he never scored a goal, that they never went on holiday, that he could not hold down a job, that she was a single mother, that he had a drink problem, that she was ugly, that he lived in a poor area, that she was never invited out, that he died alone, that she was beaten, that he was arrested, that she was raped, that he was murdered was because they were scapegoats.

Make others the scapegoat and immunity from fault and blame follows and thus one can move without hindrance, barrier or boundary. Make him or her a scapegoat because if you do not get in first they will do it to you. Make sure you blame them before they can turn that accusing eye in your direction. Stay one, no ten, steps ahead. They deserve to be blamed. If they had any value they would not be stigmatised in such a fashion, it is their own fault.

I learnt that they may come with smiles but the blade of blame is held behind their back ready to strike, so plunger your dagger of fault deep into them first. Do not be taken in by the false proclamations of love and compassion, they are but veils to place across my eyes so a crown of accountability can be thrust on my head.

Soon, the lessons that I learned began to automatically teach me. Not feeling enough attention at a party? The guests are ignorant and impolite. Tell one that this is a case and see how the attention shifts. Served slowly at the bar? The bar man is incompetent and he should be reminded of this fact. See how he has responded now? Report not completed on time? Find a junior colleague and point out how he has failed to provide the necessary information. Criticised for not earning enough? Blame the bosses for running the company into the ground and failing to reward an achiever such as I. Feeling restless and unloved? Lash out at her so she seeks to make amends. Stuck in a traffic jam? Blame the department of transport for the ill-thought out road works. Struggling to sleep? Must be those damned neighbours and their late-night music, go and give them a piece of your mind and see how much better you feel when you point out they are at fault.

But what if it is not those things and it is because I am not interesting enough to talk to, or not attractive enough to catch the server’s eye, or not good enough at my job, or not hitting the targets because I cannot apply the required effort, or because I do not show her any affection any longer, or because I set off late from the house, or because I fell asleep this afternoon?

Never. That is what they want you to think. That is the control that they seek to exert over you. That is how they get inside your mind and try to make you think that you are weak, when you are not. Remember, they want you to be the scapegoat. They want you to be the failure, they want you to be the subject of their blaming, so you take the rap, take the hit and become the patsy. Yes, you are right, I remember now.

The diktat still resonates even now, reminding and emphasising. That is not your role. You are better than all of them. You will rise above them and to do that you must work hard at everything and ensure that they are the ones who are to blame, because they are. They are the ones who are trying to stop you achieving and claiming what is rightfully yours. They are the traitors, the insidious foes, the treacherous betrayers who spout sedition and practise disloyalty. Let them know who they are, scapegoat them.

Thus this carries into everything that we do. We find a scapegoat in every aspect of our lives. The put-upon sibling, the browbeaten colleague, the lambasted neighbour, the oddball in the local superstore, the subjugated underling, the butt of the social circle and most of all you, the intimate partner who becomes the ultimate scapegoat.

It is you that becomes the receptacle for our domineering, hectoring, nagging, bullying, blaming, intimidating, coercing, blaming, accusing, menacing, terrorising, bludgeoning and oppressive persecutions. You burnt dinner, you made the white shirt turn pink, you forgot to get that present that we wanted, you failed to satisfy our sexual appetite, you made us be unfaithful, you made us break that mirror, you made us slap you, you made us ill, you made our team lose, you cost us that promotion, you woke us too early, you woke us too late, you let us fall asleep, you kept us awake, you didn’t do it, you did it. Again.

This conditioning ensured that the only way to stay ahead, to win and to succeed was to find someone else to blame and that does not change because we know you are just waiting to try to blame us, well we know your game. We have you in our eyes and it is you who is to blame, not us.

The only way to prevent the hell of being a scapegoat is to make others a scapegoat instead.

And so I do as I do, I say as I say and I am what I am so that I do not end up like him, like her, like them, like you.

Can you really blame me for doing that?

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The Power of Demise

 

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“As long as I have a want. I have a reason for living. Satisfaction is death.”

So said George Bernard Shaw. To us satisfaction is not death but we derive satisfaction from death, the death of others. I wrote about how I rarely attend funerals and explained the reasons why, but that is not to say that we will not use the instances of dying and of death to our distinct advantages. Indeed, where the spectre of death looms waiting to cut that last slender link between the person and life, with his sharpened scythe, our kind come crawling from the woodwork in order to avail ourselves of the copious fuel that is available. Should you see one of our kind re-appear after an absence, there is a reasonable chance that the sickly sweet smell of death has attracted us.

Should we learn that a family member or friend is about to shuffle off this mortal coil, then this presents a marvellous opportunity for our kind. To begin with, the façade can be maintained through demonstrating false compassion about the circumstances of the person whose demise is imminent. We know all the phrases to rollout to the procession of visitors and comforters who are drawn to the bed of the dying individual. We delight in keeping a vigil besides this person even though we may not have bothered with them in years. Should someone be as bold to question why we have appeared now of all times after remaining away, we will seize on such an unwarranted observation to castigate the questioner.

“How can you ask such a thing like that, at a time like this?”

“This isn’t about me; it is about Uncle Malcolm.” (How we say this with a straight face still surprises me.)

“You can talk, what have you done for her lately?” (Which will be asked even if we know that the questioner has been a total rock to the dying individual)

Our response will be designed to draw an emotional reaction and allow us to drink of the fuel provided.

We will provide the rudimentary appearance of caring, although it is all for show. We will of course leave the heavy lifting work to other people. We are not there to change the pus-ridden bandages or sooth the fevered brow. We will not clean up after someone soils themselves or spills food and drink down their front from shaking, tremulous hands. Not at all, but we will do what we do best and shower words of empty kindness, false compassion and fake consideration towards the ill individual. This makes us look good in the eyes of all assembled and their nods of approval and muttered thanks not only provides us with fuel but adds to the façade’s maintenance. We are a good stick for travelling all this way (we were coming anyway for another reason) and offering such eloquent words of comfort to all assembled.

Watch us as we move amidst family members, friends, colleagues and neighbours who turn up to see if they can help as we position ourselves as gatekeepers. Nobody gains admittance without seeing us first so that we may suck in the fuel that comes with such a heightened emotional situation. Tearful siblings, stern-faced uncles, bewildered cousins all ripe for us to send a pleasant and supportive comment towards, purely to receive their thanks, gratitude and approval.

We will not allow the person whose sands of time are running out to inhabit centre stage one last time as we camp on to their ground, usurping them through an exhibition of apparent concern and compassion. Watch carefully and you will see that we do not actually do anything for the dying person, that is not our role, there are minions for that and it is all beneath us. Instead, we see this as a chance to draw fuel and appear to be a supportive individual who is pulling everyone together and ensuring that the dying person’s final days are as happy and as comfortable as possible.

We have seen enough times what needs to be said in order to produce the tears, the slowly dipped head and the weak smile, the attempt to be brave despite the heavy sadness. Inside we do not feel this as we greet each person. We feel empowered at the fuel that flows. We hover by the bed, watching over the new arrival’s interaction with our charge, commenting on what we have been doing for them (in fact it will be someone else who has cared for them but we are content to take the credit) so we gain additional approval and thanks. We regard these visitors as having come really to see us, to thank us for our work, our generosity and our greatness, rather than the dying, shrivelled person in the bed nearby. Like some morbid cuckoo we appear and take over this person’s final act, claiming it for ourselves, our fuel lines snaking towards anybody and everybody who appears.

Of course there even remains the opportunity to draw fuel from the dying individual. Though they may look at us through morphine-hazed eyes and mumble medicated words which are difficult to discern, the tightness of their grip on our arm or hand tells us plenty about how they appreciate what we are doing. As their time on this world draws to a close, we still see the chance to pull some fuel from this person as we trot out the familiar platitudes at a time like this. We do not say them to convey comfort, but only to ensure that appreciation, gratitude and thanks comes our way and in turn fuels us.

As guardian and comforter-in-chief we position ourselves at the centre of everything during this period. We do little but direct others and issue our spoken commands and observations, all of which being self-serving. We will endeavour to create yet more fuel by leaning in low and listening intently as the dying person speaks, perhaps their last words as we nod and gently pat them with our hand, the chosen one for their final speech. We will take these words and use them to our advantage. Should the grieving widow, let’s call her Emily ask what her now departed husband said, we might dismiss his actual words and say,

“He said, tell Emily I am sorry for what I did.”

Her look of confusion at our false utterance will provide fuel. Alternatively, we might say,

“He said, tell Rose I love her so, so much.”

Her puzzled look as she asks “Who is Rose?” generates a further dollop of fuel.

Then again, we may pretend that some huge secret has been imparted to us and that we cannot say what it is in order to draw questioning and attention to ourselves.

Indeed, there may be instances where there is that last chance to draw some negative fuel, to make those dimmed eyes flares one last time in shock, hurt and confusion. An opportunity to lean in close and whisper a final caustic sentence, designed to consign this wretched person to spend their final moments in torment, unable to respond effectively, their grimaces and clawing indicative of the discomfort that has been caused by the parting savagery that has been gently spoken into their ear. A parting burst of negative fuel which underlines our sense of omnipotence that we can still achieve this even at a time like this. Such an act is usually saved for someone who we truly believe deserves it.

I have watched in my time a master practitioner at such behaviours. From silent child made to sit and observe, through to knowledgeable adult who can see straight through this veneer and who knows what is really being done. I have seen all these moves, actions and behaviours meted out by this supposed bastion of compassion and all the while I knew what was really going on.

I may not have copied those behaviours extensively myself – usually because time has never permitted me to spend such days providing such a vigil – but I have seen it when younger and snapshots when older, as well as recollections from others which all fits together. I know what she does. When she arrives, immaculately attired, heels clicking away on the floor as she assumes centre stage, I focus on that click click clicking and know that the death watch beetle has arrived.

I have learned and I may yet choose to apply those lessons should the need arise, but I know for sure that I will seek that last fountain of negative fuel before the death rattle. I know who I will save my choice comment for in order to achieve that satisfaction from death.

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By the By

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By making you love us, admire us and adore us. By praising our brilliance, marvelling at our superiority and hailing our god-like magnificence. By craving us and worshipping us. By shining your spotlights on us. By seeking your sympathy. By playing the victim. By lying. By lying. By lying again. By issuing excuses. By using you, exploiting you and draining you. By taking your money and your possessions. By isolating you and scaring you. By having you run around for us, jump for us and pander to us. By comparing you to others, by making you anxious and by making you walk on eggshells. By promising the world, jam tomorrow and showing you heaven. By changing the rules that never applied in the first place. By raising the bar and moving the goal posts. By putting you down, mocking you and insulting you. By making you take the blame and by making you feel guilty. By making you scream, cry and sob. By wounding you and hurting you. By confusing and bewildering you. By pushing you and pulling you and pushing you and pulling you. By lifting you up and casting you down. By binding you to us and by sucking you into our world. By false promises and empty apologies. By using him and by adding her. By saying nothing, by saying nothing and by still saying nothing. By lifting you up, by slamming you down, by saying yes and by making you say no, no no. By never listening, by seeing only what we want to see, by doing what we want, by going where we choose and by doing as we please. By some distance, by yourself, by the narcissistic book. By vanishing, by disappearing, by disapproving, by snarling and by sneering. By smiling, by touching, by whispering and by caressing. By promising, by offering, by suggesting and by supplying. By delivering, by forgetting, by letting you down and by walking away. By being the best, by being like nothing else, by giving you your dreams and by shattering them to. By stealth, by slices, by insidious application. By charm, by magnetism and by honey-covered words with sugar-coated smiles. By a nod of the head, by a raise of the eyebrow, by a clench of the fist, by a swing of the foot. By nothing at all, by everything and more, by the first golden light and by the unceasing night. By silence, by shouting, by screaming and by sobbing. By laughing, by teasing, by holding and by shaking. By the illusion, by the fabrication, by the disbelief, by the horror. By the treachery, by the rage, by the isolation and by the smothering. By love-bombing, by triangulating, by gas lighting and by never stopping. By going, by returning, by hoovering and by departing. By not letting go, by giving nothing, by taking everything and by binding you tight.

By existing.

But never bye bye.

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The Relational Tower

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I sit up on high in my Relational Tower. I can see so much from this throne.

I look to the north and see the golden and shimmering lines which extend from me to my loyal subjects across the land. I see my supporters, my followers and my coterie going about their daily lives but all the while connected to me. They feel such privilege to be linked to me, their liege and I feed on that sense of privilege and the admiration and that adoration which is entwined around it.

I look to the south and see yet more lines of sparkling gold which link between me and my most devout lieutenants. From my vantage point I can signal to them and they will obey, carrying out my commands, executing my diktats and honouring my instructions. It is a source of great comfort to gaze in their direction and observe their industry on my behalf.

I look to the east and frown at the assembled legions which march towards me. The malcontents, the rejected, the fools and the idiots, all those who have taken up against me and now march in the expectation that they will unseat me. Yet further lines span out from me to these traitors. Dark purple lines, nearly invisible against the glowering firmament, these multitudinous lines which have those transgressors permanently attached to me and through which I pull, twist and yank. They moan, they wail and they lament their fate but there is no hope for any other for these are those who bear the stain of betrayal, the putrid stench of sedition emanates from their shambling frames. Let them come, let them advance towards me and I shall watch them as they break against my tower, like waves against the rocks as they are sent scattering and dissipating into so much spray. I watch them from afar, sometimes commanding my lieutenants to enter the fray to cajole and direct, a myriad of gold and purple shimmering and glinting as the lines combine. From time to time the purple becomes golden as by my most glorious bounty I bestow the wondrous joy upon the select few.

I look to the west and there I see you. You shine with such glory, the golden line between you and I fizzing with effervescence. A thick line which coils about your wrists, torso and throat, sending that precious essence towards me. There are days when that connection will dim to the purple of guilt, the thick line becoming stretched and thinned, but never ever breaking. I watch you as you journey towards me, face upturned, eyes rapturous, hands outstretched as the light burns brighter and those who are less than me would struggle to gaze upon you, but I always will. Though I may turn my face away from you from time to time, my dark eyes will always look for you.

I watch you all as you journey towards me, the supporters, the lieutenants, the outcasts and you. I can see it all from this elevated position as I organise, direct and orchestrate. I know what you want. I know what you all want, each and every one of you.

I am attached to you all, you are bound to me, some tighter than others, some with those chains which bite and burn, others who raise no objection to their silken bondage, but all are bound to me. I made it so. I wanted that. I am connected to so many of you. I have a relationship with each and every one. Our relational proximity varies from stranger to intimate partner, from minion to inner circle friend, from colleague to family member and so on. Relationships. I have them by the hundred and create more each day, reaching out with my tendrils of gold and purple in order to remain exactly where I want to be – at the centre in my tower.

I know why you all head towards me. You want to enter this tower and thus gain admittance to me. You wish to unlock the vast gate and pass through the imposing portal to enable you to climb the winding stone steps, each time passing without hindrance or complication through the many doors and gates which guard my inner sanctum.

I know you want to enter my inner sanctum.

Some of you want to cradle what you find there. Some of you wish to possess what your eyes will rest upon. Some of you wish to claim a portion for yourselves and be forever imbued with its effects. Some of you wish to release what is in this inner sanctum. Some of you wish to understand what lies there. Some of you wish to destroy what is revealed.

Whatever it might be, the hundreds of relationships which I have, no matter how long, how strong and how tightly bound or otherwise these may be all seek to enter my Relational Tower and penetrate the inner sanctum.

This cannot happen.

I made this tower. I built it high. I built the walls deep and thick, constructed from the stones of denial and the slabs of deflection all held in place with the mortar of fuel. I fashioned the thick timbers of the door from projection, the timber bolted together through triangulation and the lock created from a steely gaze and iron resolve. The heavy bar that is set against it arose from the blame-shifting. I have set many traps and pitfalls within this tower in order to prevent anybody reaching the inner sanctum. The stone steps are smeared with vitriol, the walls spiked with character assassination, cauldrons wait to pour their heated fury onto you and cast you in deep pits of despair. The stone is so thick that there is only ever silence here, it as if the very walls are giving you a cold and baleful stare. Everything that I have learned will be used to impede your progress, hamper and hinder you so you may not ever reach that inner sanctum.

I know you all want to go there. I know you want to reach deep inside of me, into my inner sanctum but I must not allow it. I dare not. I cannot admit anybody. Ever.

I built this tower high. I built it thick. I made it impenetrable.

I built it to keep you out.

I built it to keep me in.

We are always connected but so long as I remain in my Relational Tower in such spending isolation then my inner sanctum remains preserved and so do I.

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