Play Nice

by Rachel Harrison

Behind every crazy woman is a man sitting very quietly, saying, “What? I’m not doing anything.”

Men are all the same, Mom once told us, but it’s the ones who try the hardest to convince you that they’re good that you really have to watch out for.

But I love men. I just don’t trust or respect them.

They played with me like a doll, but I was never in on any of their jokes or secrets. They left me out on purpose, an older sibling power move.

If we don’t remember something, how can we be sure it never happened?

Sometimes men are so dumb I envy them.

It just makes me wonder about belief and delusion. What’s the difference there, really? Maybe delusion is an eagerness to believe. A desperation for it.

The whole family revolves around me. I’m the sun. That’s why you need me. You need me to apologize and make peace so you can all go back to pretending we’re normal and happy and that everything’s fine and has always been fine. And I’m done pretending.”

Everyone in my life wants me to behave in a very specific way that’s beneficial to them, and as soon as I deviate from their expectations, it’s an issue. As soon as I act out of whatever role they cast me in in their lives, it’s somehow my fault.

“We can grow up under the same roof and have radically different childhoods,”

Remembering is not always a light shone into darkness. Sometimes it’s a claw reaching out and dragging you back.

“Some lessons can only be taught by regret.”