Perhaps I have evolved to keep a safe distance. Change occurs, people leave, people die, get angry, get hurt.
‘What’s the distance,’ I wonder.
Perhaps this ingrained response is a survival mechanism. A social tick, presenting as knee-jerk humor and suspicion. Empathy saved for private lonesome moments by the campfire which are few and far between.

Just like I cannot smell the slaughter house, see the carcass, or witness the death – I do not feel it. This distance is measured because I know not to be heavy handed. The scales do not simply move ‘up’ and ‘down’. The weight bearing structure of my soul moves side-to-side and groans in my inability to take distant changes seriously.

Have I fallen? Is this a malign form of self preservation?

Keep a safe distance, everyone.