(this is based on a drama i've been watching)
i tell you about: becoming my little brother's father, debt collectors, beatings, and being afraid to answer the door. you tell me that when you were young, you learned that real people aren't heroes or villains. you don't say that this surprised you, but i know it must have, or else you wouldn't have told me.
i don't know why this is surprising, but it is. it's only obvious when you say it out loud and think “oh, of course. silly me. what a dumb thing i've just said.” but it's okay. i don't think it's dumb at all. you were lucky to have learned this as a child. i am learning this only now, holding a gun.
i don't say a lot of things. that maybe i'm evil, that maybe we all are and we're just pretending that we're not. our job is to kick men begging on their knees. i stand in line and wait for orders. i tell the others that the coast is clear. i cover the boss' body with my body to hide him from death. i do what he says and he is the devil. i tell my inner child: “i'm sorry. i'm glad we will never meet.”