In the crisp autumn air of 2025, as maple leaves turn scarlet across the Great White North, Canadians face a stark ultimatum from their own government: hand over your legally acquired firearms, or become a criminal by October 2026.
This piece feels like a lucid dream — a collision between reason and emotion.
As a reader, I sense the author writing with striking calmness about something deeply chaotic and out of control. The phrase “You lied” is the ignition point — everything that follows seeps from that crack, filled with suppression, disgust, helplessness, and the bitter clarity that comes after being emotionally blackmailed.
“I could only be rational with you, not sympathetic.”
That line hit me the hardest. It’s the voice of someone who has struggled long enough to finally choose self-protection — someone who has learned not to use love to mend another person’s damage. The scene where the speaker is threatened — “If you leave, I’ll jump” — captures a very real kind of violence that exists in relationships: not physical, but psychological captivity.
Later, the metaphor of the triangle is brilliant:
“I only accept the triangle in mathematics.”
In love, triangles are never equal, never fair. The author contrasts the logical perfection of geometry with the emotional chaos of love — reason versus ruin — and the result is a kind of cruel poetry.
In the end, this piece reads like a farewell letter that no longer seeks understanding.
The author no longer wants to be loved, nor to forgive — only to wake up.
This piece feels like a lucid dream — a collision between reason and emotion.
As a reader, I sense the author writing with striking calmness about something deeply chaotic and out of control. The phrase “You lied” is the ignition point — everything that follows seeps from that crack, filled with suppression, disgust, helplessness, and the bitter clarity that comes after being emotionally blackmailed.
“I could only be rational with you, not sympathetic.”
That line hit me the hardest. It’s the voice of someone who has struggled long enough to finally choose self-protection — someone who has learned not to use love to mend another person’s damage. The scene where the speaker is threatened — “If you leave, I’ll jump” — captures a very real kind of violence that exists in relationships: not physical, but psychological captivity.
Later, the metaphor of the triangle is brilliant:
“I only accept the triangle in mathematics.”
In love, triangles are never equal, never fair. The author contrasts the logical perfection of geometry with the emotional chaos of love — reason versus ruin — and the result is a kind of cruel poetry.
In the end, this piece reads like a farewell letter that no longer seeks understanding.
The author no longer wants to be loved, nor to forgive — only to wake up.
It’s not coldness; it’s a long-overdue freedom.