When I hear people baffled and horrified about the Palestine-Israel situation, it makes me think of that expression, they are the way they are, because I am the way I am. It makes me think of my own much smaller scale Israel-Palestine conflict. The wars I wage on a much more local level. Where words and grudges and judgments are bombs. Where secret moments of dishonesty and manipulation are my strategy. I think about how long my own peace treaties last. Not long. And I wonder if I had more resources at my disposal, and more people pissing me off, if I could be capable of sending larger bombs, if I could be capable of figuring out more complicated ways of burying people. Peace is easy for me to imagine on a global level, but it’s hard for me to mandate in my immediate vicinity. I see myself protecting what I’ve fought for years to claim as my own, spiritual and psychological and emotional things that mostly exist beneath my own flesh. And I’ve been an emotional terrorist, secretly wanting to wipe out everything about another person that is getting in my way of being free. Even if my battles involve the people who share my blood, or the roof over my head, it still prevents peace from happening. And if there isn’t peace in my own home, or in my mind, how can I expect there to be peace in the world?