So, tonight, my friend and upstairs neighbor Andy came down and we got to talking about stuff. Now, the important thing to note about Andy is that he has an astute and practical nature about him that I often enjoy, if only for the sake of having a built-in devil’s advocate. A Chaotic Good to my Lawful Evil, if you will. Anyway, so I was bitching about some stupid thing and Andy pointed out (in his infuriatingly practical way) that most of the time, whatever thing I’m bitching about could have easily been avoided if I’d simply said “no”.
It’s the same damn conversation every time, too. It goes like this.
Friend: Well, why don’t you say no?
Catie: Because I feel bad!
Friend: Why do you feel bad?
Catie: Because I don’t want to say no.
Friend: But why don’t you want to say no?
Catie: Because I feel bad!
Friend: Why don’t you just tell them that you can’t do it?
Catie: Because I don’t want to say no!
Now, I am not good at saying “no”. I’m terrible at it, actually. I ascribe all sorts of meaning and context to every request made to me, and I have a horrible guilt complex about telling people that I just simply can’t do something. So, my solution is to attempt to do it all, fail miserably, get really stressed and repeat the cycle until I just want to go to bed until everyone goes away.
I realize this is not necessarily the best way of dealing with things, but I’ve just gotten used to being the go-to person. It’s a compliment (to me, at least) in a way, that people assume that I’m down for whatever and capable of handling whatever task they are asking me to complete.
There comes a point where you just have to say no, I think, and realize that you can’t please everyone. I AM SO VERY WISE.
Anyway, the punchline is that after also having the same exact conversation with Jake about my difficulty in saying “no” 10 minutes after Andy left, I sat down and wrote this incredibly shitty and terrible poem as both a joke and some sort of odd prayer to the gods.
(It’s also important to note here that Jake got a 7-foot broadsword as a gift, so this poem isn’t really effective unless you’ve got a broadsword in one hand and a short sword in the other and maybe you got bored and drew Braveheart makeup on with eyeliner. Just saying).
This so just…so bad. I’m sorry.
Behold the mountains come before me
and bow low
for I am the bringer of storms,
the commander of thunder.
Behold, here lays before me the chaos I have wrought
and the hearts that I have broken
for I am dread silence,
the comfort of the damned.
Cometh I, sovereign of fire and of earth,
my sword is drawn and bare
save for the blood of my enemies.
I am unshaken.
Attend me, wind and air,
I am the guardian of water,
the wisdom of the ages is my lullaby
behind my eyes lies lightning.
I am unconquerable.
I have borne the weight of worlds and never stumbled.
My roots have grown so deep
I can feel the morning’s warmth
as I command the stars to shine more brightly.
I am unweakened.
My thirst is unquenchable
and I have drunk oceans
my hunger insatiable
I have devoured continents.
My very being is possibility.
I have kept echoes as friends
and cosmos as bedfellows.
I bring men and nations to their knees
swearing oaths to my name
so that they might gain favor.
I have the secrets of the universe written on the backs of my hands
and disperse hurricanes and earthquakes with a dismissive wave
and call them back like pets to tremble at my feet.
I have woven space
and chronicled time
to suit myself.
I am forged from hope and alchemied from light
to what here stands before you.
I am terror.
I am peace.
I am mighty.
And fucking NO, I won’t help you move.
I’m going to go play some Dungeons and Dragons or something.