contend:

        to struggle in opposition;
          to assert or maintain earnestly. 

I was angry with you.

Not by any means was this justified.  But I was angry, with you.

Never mind that everything I needed had been provided.  I had been held up and prodded forward in every challenge I faced.  Never was I forced to do any single thing alone.

You knew I knew it.

I didn't want to bend my knees or lay down my head in submission.  Trying, shameless, to prove some pathetic point.  That I was capable of handling this.  I could do it.  On my own.

All that I really proved, I think, is that I wasn't and couldn't.  Which had been made clear eons ago. The only way to be supported was to put my weight on you.

You knew I knew it.

I was complaining in my mind, about how I never heard from you anymore.  That it used to happen all of the time, don't you remember?  A sentence or a thought stood out, an old friend came back from the dead.  And I was so sure that this was a means of communication.  Straight from you to me.


Of course, I took the time to explain my plans.  I was going to give up.  And don't you try to stop me.

I said that every morning was impossible.  Every day a battle.  I was going to allow this relentless current to pull me out, to take me where it would.  Because what did you care.  I didn't.

But that was all a lie.  And you knew I knew it.