What if?

What if you told them they could stop?

That they could release each other’s nipples, and end their twisting and pinching?

That they could stop hurting each other, stop hating each other, and just move on with their lives?

That they didn’t need to dig their fingers into each others hair and drag each other across the room?

That they didn’t need to send each other catty emails, and threatening texts, as their oblivious boyfriends watched football every night?

That their dreams need not involve images of forcing the other lick their sex, and their nightmares involve being made to do the same to their rival?

But such questions presume falsely that they do not know – that they do not see that their feud is one they alone control – one they feed – one they foster.

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