A cactus can be a type of person.
Soft on the outside, spikes on the outside.
I didn’t used to be a cactus. But, y’know, life happened.
I used to push it all inside, instead of allowing my feelings. It was like filling myself up with poison, breaking from the inside out.
So if you tell me I’m not being kind or patient, I might not listen.
And I’m sorry about that.
I had an incident with one of my plants the other day and I know it stings.
I suppose, if I’m arguing with you, it’s evidence that I care enough about you to try, as a wise friend of mine clarified recently.
Because if I think you don’t care enough to recognise my spikes act as protection,
I will walk away,
in case you poison my soft parts.
