And turn into fat little kitty cats we did.
I swear I never wanted that.
I’ll be the first to admit that I am prone to disclosure and a big fan of putting everything out on the table so we can all discuss our issues and get the hell over it.
The truth will out and out it shall.
But bits and pieces of the truth, complimented by assumptions and conjectures, have their way or leading the charge: noisy and full of rancor. And when that can of cats is opened, duck for cover and put on your best canary eaten grin.
And remember, nobody wins. And remember, you only know one side of the story. And remember, your ego and competition and frustration and insecurity have a way of glomming onto the supporting details of your plight. And remember, you can’t trust me. Not really. Because I don’t know everything and I can’t read minds and I can only give you what I know and feel and that is it. And it is sometimes wrong wrong wrong. Or only right for me. And remember: you support me best by being fair and kind. To me, to everyone.
Hold on and hold out for that moment of omniscience before you open your big mouth and condemn someone. He has a point. The bastard. The little fucker. The spoiled brat. He has his story, damn fool.
And if you have something to say to him, if you have an opinion you can’t help but to form, best start by sharing it with him.
But put those claws away and watch your tail.
Someone might buy a rocking chair.