The moment was over quickly—laid to rest gently in a bed of silk. You stayed quiet from where you were perched on my head, and I sighed and the tears started drying from my eyes. I touched the wall one last time, my lips pressing against it as a snorted a soft breath, a soft sigh: Toto was gone.

It didn’t…make me feel better. I was still too tired, still too hungry, still too haunted by other shit that plagued me and my life and stalked the world. Crying a few tears wasn’t gonna change that; I’m sure crying a lot of them wasn’t gonna change that, either. But it was an issue laid to rest that I hadn’t let sleep yet, loose ends tied neatly in a smart knot that clutched a casket I had avoided all this time.

Toto was gone.

I miss you, Big Guy.

And just like that…just like that, it was over. It was out of my system and my psyche felt a little cleaner for it, my soul feeling a little freer without some other unaccounted for junk fucking it up. Okay. Cool.

Time for rampage.

I heard her coming behind me—and don’t you think for one second I had been ignoring the growing eruption that was bubbling in her voice. That…that patronizing tone that spoke volumes, like what I had done to the goddamn crystal was something worth throwing a fit over. And maybe it was, for a child of the earth; it was earth shit I had fucked up, and maybe she didn’t care about my solemn tears or whatever or the very apparent fact that I wasn’t on my A game emotionally—whatever, whatever, she was pissed cuz there was some crystals destroyed and the way she was stalking up on me—

--well, it was feelin’ like she wanted a fight.

Nevermind I cried over the one who had fallen for her birth.

It’s whatever. It was all whatever. I had laid Toto to rest in my soul and I had cried and it was over and whatever. Fine. Cool. Let’s get mad.

I jerked my neck twice, once in opposite directions (crikCRAK!), my jaw kinda working itself into a rage as she approached me. You could feel the thing rising up and normally you’d get excited for it but at this point you weren’t sure, you weren’t quite sure if this was the best situation for a fight. You just weren’t…sure. Cuz you liked her and her pretty eyes and her pretty legs (ugh pervert) and the pretty voice that talked about you all the time. You loved it when I fought-- you just weren’t sure if you wanted to see me fight her.

I turned to her, slowly, my eyes blazing coals as stood square before her. She was so tall and I had to crane my neck up to look her in the eye properly. Whatever, big whoop. Height didn’t mean shit to me; I just had a better view of her chest and knee-caps, I guess. Besides, she was tall but she was skinny like a willow branch, and she’d probably snap like one too (or bend since that’s what willow branches do but she’d also probably suffocate so I defend my statement). Between my bulk, my muscle and my frame against hers? Shoot. You can cancel Christmas.

Why, she asked me. She was asking me why. Like I had cared enough about the shitty crystals to make the conscious decision to waste them all over the ground like that. My memories about that time were all kinds of jumbled with emotions too strong sort through, too convoluted with bad things, bad things, scary things and gross things and comforting things, too. But none of those shits had anything to do with deciding to wreck someplace.

I was sad, I could’ve told her. I was hurt, I was angry, I was so so so terrified that I was failing everyone and I lost control of myself. I lost control. I lost control.I could’ve explained the situation, I could’ve at least attempted to see if she understood what I had felt, that I hadn’t really meant to cause so much destruction, that I did actually feel kinda bad about it.

But fuck her.

There were about three people on this earth and one person on the outside I had to explain myself to, and this bitch wasn’t one of them.

So I cocked my head as I looked at her, my eyes still those hot-hot coals set so deeply in my face. “I dunno,” I said—and it was mocking, so deliberately insolent, “I felt like it.” And I guess I wasn’t really lying, cuz in a sense I had felt like it—but whatever, that wasn’t the point. I was swelling as I looked at her, my thick chest and my thick neck and everything else thick about me poised and strong and tensed as I waited for her reaction. You wanna be mad about some rocks? Cool. Be mad.

Whatchu gonna do about it?

"talk"

Quit Hollerin' "Why God?", he ain't got shit to do with it.