I absorb the hostility of her message as it joins the surge.
She types with haste, hostility, incomprehensible recklessness.
My tears mottle the screen and I smear them away.
Compassion, for some, is an afterthought; she does not withdraw.
Unstable, unworthy, unacceptable, unhinged.
The words vanish with the touch of a trembling finger.
Proof evaporates into fuel for gaslight humor.
I am isolated with ease, a cornered animal too weak to retaliate.
Withdraw, withhold, wither, withstand.
Since then, I shudder when I see her face in other people’s faces.
How lucky she is that I’m not as off as she said.
How lucky she is that her name isn’t scrawled on a suicide note.