The most lethal of them all. 

The victim.

She needs your help. 

Life is so hard on her. 

She’ll have excuses, reasons and justifications spilling from her suitcases, the ones that can never fit everything. 

They can never fit all of her baggage. 

Her life is a tragedy, fortunes never favoured her. 
And so. 

You love. 

You give.

You want to fix, adjust, uplift and empower her. 

Is it your guilt that makes you do this? 

Gesture after gesture. 
Nudge after nudge. 

Affirmation after affirmation.

Wanting to keep her happy. 
To keep the peace. 
Then as days wane into weeks and those into months. 

You realise. 

She doesn’t want change. 

After all, why would she when she’s latched onto you. 
And you begin to get frustrated. 

For every give you ever gave. 

It burns at the back of your throat. 

Clouds your mind, so you can’t function. 

Suddenly you crave sugar like never before and you tell yourself it’s a phase. 

But just like all things, there is a limit. 
And boom. 

You deliver the blow. 

A giver no more, to the victim no more.

For at some point, your victim leveraged herself into the freaking boss. 
And you look back. 

So fucking confused. 

Hurt and seething. 
Finally, you let your anger release. 

Her ego can’t bear it. 

She’s out. 

And that is the best gift she ever gave you. 
Her absence. 

May none of us giving souls, ever find ourselves cracking our spines for that kind of a woman. 

For she has been lifted too many times. 

Just never with her own feet.