I’ve made a million decisions that will never be acknowledged.

I held back, slowed down, and stopped completely.

Didn’t write or speak the toxic words.

Didn’t openly blame, didn’t publicly judge, and shut the whole thing down.

Turned the other cheek.

And then another one.

Didn’t act on the plans for retribution.

Kept the silence.

Walked away.

Let it go.

And licked the wounds.

I’m the only one who knows.

The only one present with the smoldering dilemma.

This shit, this stuff, it’s not recorded, it will not be rewarded, and there’s no diploma waiting from the University of Morality, Ethics and Good Behavior.

Biting your tongue means tasting nothing but your own blood.

That’s it.

The raging storm exists in your mind only.

And you’ll be the one to wait it out or not.

What’s never uttered or shared, doesn’t really exist.

It just sits there for a while, deep within, trembling nervously, maybe waiting to ignite.

There’s a secret sense of right and wrong that will test you for no reason.

Fuck them up, or not?

Hurt them, squeeze them, and finally destroy them, or not?

Lash out, or not?

It will not bring you anything, it will not take you anywhere.

You will not win, gain, or acquire anything.

Letting go of the urge to retaliate and to be right, is a lonely event.

I know.

I know.

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(Photo by @ali_courtney, for Unsplash)