My Little Black Book

Poor Boy

Poor boy,

Poor, hopeful, immature, persistent, stupid, emotional, young, naive, gullible boy

He is so fixated, so determined. He screwed up! But still he calls me for hours and hours on end, three hours and fifty-seven minutes to be exact. He could talk about her and his feelings as if they had been married for twenty years with three children amongst.

Stupid boy. He is at the tender age where he thinks he is a better, strong, smarter man. 

He is the same, poor boy. When his name is in question, everyone rolls their eyes in a deliberate 360 degree rotation and murmur, Stupid boy.

But I don't. Not deep down. I find him a poor boy, but not by his choice He is strong in the way that he has witnessed his parents brawling and smacking and screaming and wailing and he is strong but at the same time stupid enough to tell me this. I'm not her. My heart needs no winning over.

What can I do? I welp with him. But I don't tell him of my eerily similar home. 

He need not know... bounded not by love or understanding or mutual ethical respect but by the power they pray to. By a pre-determined way of life.

But the religion does not explicitly forbid separation, but it is banned by the people as no one would ever do it, fearful of the shame it would bring upon the family.

What a shame...

Poor boy, I condemn you eligible to divorce yourself from that ideology. But poor boy, strong boy, please don't divorce yourself from the cold, hard truth. Otherwise, you will be shamed when you fall and their heads surround your sprawled body and cackle.