It Must Be Amazing
Read more poetry by Britt Wolfe
It must be amazing
to never have to arrive
at the scene of your own damage.
To move through the world
wrapped in a mind that edits reality
in real time—
that blurs cause and effect
until harm feels accidental
and pain looks self-inflicted
on someone else.
You don’t remember what you did.
Or you remember it differently.
Or you remember it perfectly
but file it under
necessary,
provoked,
misunderstood.
Accountability never finds you
because your mind reroutes it.
Blame becomes migratory.
It lands anywhere
but where it belongs.
If someone is hurt,
it is because they were too sensitive.
Too dramatic.
Too broken to interpret you correctly.
If someone leaves,
they are unstable.
Ungrateful.
Unable to see your good intentions
through their own flaws.
You do not apologize.
You explain.
You contextualize cruelty
until it looks like reason.
You intellectualize violence
until it passes as logic.
You turn every confrontation
into a referendum
on someone else’s tone,
timing,
or emotional excess.
And somehow—
miraculously—
you remain untouched.
Your self-image survives intact
because your mind is loyal
only to you.
It protects you
like an accomplice
with a law degree.
Memory bends.
Narrative shifts.
Empathy is simulated
just long enough
to appear human.
You do not sit with guilt.
You outsource it.
You do not feel remorse.
You feel wronged.
You do not ask
what you have done.
You ask
why everyone keeps reacting
so poorly to it.
And the most astonishing part—
the part that almost deserves applause—
is how sincerely innocent
you believe yourself to be.
How convinced
you are
that the wreckage around you
is simply coincidence.
It must be amazing
to never have to reckon.
To never have to repair.
To never have to say
I did this.
But here is the truth
your mind will never let you hold:
A life without accountability
is not freedom.
It is stagnation.
It is a closed system
where nothing enters,
nothing changes,
and nothing heals.
And everyone else—
the ones who feel too much,
remember too clearly,
and carry the cost—
they are not weak.
They are simply the ones
your protection system
could not erase.
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Poetry Anthologies by Britt Wolfe:
