what we really are
it was an ordinary day--isn’t that how so many stories begin? it was an ordinary day, one that started in an ordinary way, with ordinary events done by ordinary people. not a single thing stood out one way or the other; not bad, not good..simply ordinary. that was the puzzle that remained after all was said and done (another of those ordinary sayings, right?) yes, after all was said and done, no one could quite understand the events that occurred on that ordinary day by an ordinary man.
it’s folly to believe only people with a slightly warped psyche become hostile. it’s silly to think the rest of us are, for the most part, mild mannered and rational. although we know in our dna hearts we are capable of great violence, we maintain the pretense we are civilised, able to work things out with a touch of anger, a pinch of sarcasm, a spoonful of irritation--yet, in reality, beneath the tight smile and flat eyes of someone discussing their side of a heated debate, what lurks is a huge well of pure need to destroy something or someone if we decide that’s the way to go.
and so it was, on that ordinary day, a ordinary man who had lived his life loving then hating then fearing he’d become his father actually reached that point....and stepped into the personality he’d avoided all of his life. he opened his mouth, and told his daughter in no uncertain terms exactly what he thought about her, the harsh things he had always suppressed in order to not be that person he feared--leaving her destroyed and dismissed when he was done. he walked away, waving off her sounds of pain, proving yet another ordinary statement; the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.