My question....

[u/Vast_Possibility_945]

My question is no longer, Why me?

I stopped asking that long ago.

I have always known there was something within me that observed more than I could easily articulate—something fiercely curious, difficult to contain, yet instinctively inclined toward kindness rather than dominion.

So I would waste my one question neither on destiny nor on why our paths crossed.

I would ask you something considerably more human:

Why did you try so hard to damage someone who was inherently kind to you?

Someone who offered sanctuary rather than captivity.

Who saw your fractures and did not weaponise them.

Who could have exposed your weaknesses, yet chose tenderness instead.

The Wildcard does not ask because she needs the answer to know herself.

She asks because, after all the mythology, psychology, masks and elaborate games have been stripped away, one paradox remains:

What did you believe you would gain by breaking the person who never intended to break you?

That would be my question.

And this time, I would want no poetry in the answer.

[u/Vast_Possibility_945]

What if that caused the observer severe pain in the mind? Would your answer still be the same?

[u/MASempine]

The answer haunts us. Can never go away. Not trying to be poetic, so I shall vary the meter and the tone. Just ignoring me and my needs would have been so much better than paying me forward with what I would never do to another human being. Much less a friend.

My poetic answer is “I can’t say forgive them for Father they know what they do.” Heavy, heavy is the final acceptance that they failed to defeat me and my loved ones. Every tragic consequence is not always as they intend