it's so obvious; they are exactly alike. you would think that would make them see eye to eye, but instead they butt heads. it's more than that -- it's a clash, a crash, a massive head-on collision.

they are both bleeding. i saw it: the deep, dark gashes; the blood dripping like molasses. i heard the screaming, too: sounds of pain and frustration and anguish. empathy shoved me down and made feel like i was the one injured, like it was my own pain. i cried, god how i cried, and i woke up so exhausted, as if i were the one stranded in the middle of the road.

it is not easy bearing witness to such a thing. you want to turn back the clock. you want to say things that matter. you want to make it all better with the blink of an eye.

but i can't.

and maybe he was right. maybe it is arrogant to think that i possibly could, to even try, to bother worrying my pretty little head about things that don't even directly affect me.

but -- God help me (because, after all, i am not jesus, he also told me. and thank goodness he reminded me, before i tried walking on water!) -- if feeling their pain and wishing it would go away, if loving them and wanting them to be happy, if that is the kind of thing that makes me arrogant, then fine. i am arrogant and damn proud of it.

pride, however, is a dangerous thing. i mean, that's how it all started in the first place, and look where it got them.