There comes a time when everyone has to stand up and be counted. Isn’t that what they say? Never mind the people who decry you and try to make you sit down, baying for your blood because you aren’t thinking along the same lines as them. In fact, that is the very time when you are supposed to say Damn them and all their connections, one has to say what is right, in my eyes.
It is a brave person who does that. They literally these days are putting themselves up to be shot down. So who but a brave fool would dare to do it.
This is what the bullies are counting on. The bullies are those who stand on the sidelines and shout. The ones who have an easy answer to everything except when they are asked to put themselves in that position. And then they come crying for support: we didn’t know how difficult it was. Are we expected to do all this by ourselves, just the few of us? What happened to all the money that was there to pay for it? Why we remember in times past, such fun, such glorious fun.

Those were in the easy times, the times when everyone stuck together, worked hard for the common weald. Now, everyone is out for themselves and call those who still hold those values as archaic flops. Hadn’t they seen that times have moved on? No one does that any more. No one except for the few. Everyone else has other ideas , balloons to launch, strings to pull, butterflies to chase. All of which are valid. Who dares to say they are not?

Supportive, of course we’re supportive- just not of you. You don’t count. You are better off not existing. We loved you in the beginning. We fawned over you, delighting in your very being. We were so proud to know you, to give you aid, to pat you on the head. But that was long ago. We have moved on to new treasures.

And just to prove how little we care and how much we love calling whatever your efforts are to support us, derisory, we are going to withdraw what little support we do give you. But make no mistake- we will do it so loud that no one else will want to support you either.

It used to be, when someone was sick or down on their luck , that people would rally round and offer what they could- a casserole, a loaf of bread, soap, washing the clothes of the kids. A few even offered money. Not everyone did. There were always those who stood on their doorsteps, arms akimbo, smoking, saying They’re no better than they should be, dirty lot, got it coming, I reckon. And they turned their backs.

Until it happened to them. Who was there to help them? Usually the very ones they despised. But in most case, it was too late. They had allowed something precious to slip away. And then they cried.
It wasn’t milk that could be mopped up, it wasn’t bones that could mend in time. It was trust that had been finally broken forever.

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