Only Goat is Dinner

Metaphorical Narrative

Rain pins you inside, and the old betrayal tape hisses: “She’s bored because of you.”
Beneath it lurks the deeper code: if you are not the goat, you are betraying the herd.

Once, the goat was dragged to the altar — body cut open, pain turned into belonging. That role was hung on your shoulders: suffer for safety, or be cast out.

But you burn the contract and the system starves. The goat-role was never you. The only goat is dinner.

And when the system realizes it cannot eat you, it changes tactics. It bares its teeth: “Do you think you can hide from us?”
You stand, sovereign, and answer: “I see you. And I ignore your existence.”

Core Insight

What feels like betrayal is not truth — it’s residue. Not playing the goat isn’t abandoning others, it’s fidelity to yourself. When the old role dies, attack is the next trick. But attack without obedience is nothing but smoke.

Saturday Experiment

Step 1 — Betrayal Voice: When it whispers, answer aloud:
“Only goat is dinner. I am not the goat.”
Picture the goat-role burning away, roasted, gone.

Step 2 — Attack Voice: When it hisses, “Do you think you can hide from us?”, stand tall and say:
“I see you. And I ignore your existence.”
Let the attack hit air, dissolve, and leave you untouched.

Sunday Reflection

• What happens inside him when the goat-role no longer exists?
• How does he feel when attack arrives and finds no buyer?
• What life opens when betrayal and intimidation both collapse at once?