mean

hurtful

careless

selfish

showy

lofty and smug

a tyrant

a blind ruler

dramatic

overdone and unruly

a crook

a lair, not to be trusted

disorder and unorganized

havoc

totally chaos

a frenzy

madness

painful and confusion

dominance

a baby and lost in the tends

attention seeking

self-absorbed

compulsive

obsessive and entitled

sluggish and sleepy

lackadaisical and reckless

in need of a teacher

some guidance

instruction

a path to follow

shrug off and decline

discard those who care

throw away meaningful people and opportunities

no cares to give in things that are real

blind

unstable and detached of sympathy

directionless

drifting

haphazard to oneself

hot-headed, temper Tatum

anger and rage

a darkness brews just below the surface

independent to a fault

vulnerable and sad

attacking and defensive

full of fire

loved and adored through all of the insults given

prayed for nonstop

watched over forever

aching hearts through disrespect

broken apart through constant turmoil

headaches going on

sleepless night

rough days

zombie state

hopefully still

prayers always

keep going the best we can

love that doesn’t ‘t end…even through the tears

🤍 SK-

Short Story: Living With Mean
by SK

Mean wasn’t just a word—it was a presence. It filled the air like smoke, thick and suffocating. Mean wasn’t always loud, but it was always there. Hurtful, careless, selfish… a tyrant in a child’s body, wearing smugness like a crown. Mean was dramatic, unruly, a master of havoc and heartache. It left rooms in chaos, lives in frenzy.

Living with Mean meant walking on glass—carefully, quietly, praying not to trigger the storm. Mean was unstable, blind to sympathy, and detached from direction. A crook of compassion, a liar of love, a ruler with no rule but their own.

We tried to guide Mean—offered teaching, instruction, a path to follow. But Mean shrugged it off, discarded us like trash, tossing away people and chances like broken toys. Attention-seeking and compulsive, Mean spun in circles of madness, leaving us all dizzy with confusion and pain.

Mean was fire—anger and rage glowing just beneath the skin. Hot-headed, reckless, lost in a sea of self, yet somehow still so vulnerable. A baby crying in the wind, loud but unheard, needing help but slapping away the hands that reached out.

And yet… we loved Mean. Through every insult, every sleepless night, every shattered moment of peace. We prayed, begged the heavens for healing. Our hearts broke under the weight of Mean’s wrath, but still—we stayed. Love doesn’t quit when it’s real.

Even in the zombie days, when the house was gray with exhaustion and the hope felt paper thin, we held on. We kept going. Not because it was easy, but because love doesn’t end. Not when it’s anchored in truth.

So we wait. Still. Quietly. Hopefully.
Prayers whispered through the tears.

SK-

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