Diametrically Opposed II

Boundaries.
noun. plural.
A line that marks the limit of an area.
Where one area ends, and another begins.
The space of my personhood that I allow you access to.

When we met, I was deceived by the company you kept. And the company that kept you.
I assumed that because you found your way into my circle, surely our values were aligned. Comparable, even?
Boy was I wrong.
The Venn diagram of your values and mine are parallel, in this world and the next.

We are diametrically opposed.

You are emotionally infantile, unable to draw inferences and empathize. Like a hard-headed child, wielding manipulation as a tool and unable to grasp my autonomy as a person.
But that's the thing, isn't it?
You are in fact, not a child.
One would think that you, an adult, would be able to comprehend the very basic meaning of my words when I say ‘No, not today’.

Alas, and alack.
You took my vulnerability and openness, stretched it like a canvas, and attempted to beat it into submission.
Then you stood in disbelief, as I resisted your attempt to break me.

You see, the connector that bound us is sacred to me. We are a healthy unit that has stood the test of time. We are a safe space, for me.
But you, you.
Your tantrums are a fog of confusion, threatening to fragment the ties that bind.

It ends today.

I will not let you manipulate me into compliance.
I will not let you use anxiety to squeeze the safety out of my personhood.
I will not let you bring discord into the ties that bind us.

We are diametrically opposed, unequally yoked, chaotically tethered, and absolutely in disagreement.

Today, Im drawing the line and saying no.