The Twisted Tongue

Metaphorical Narrative

Imagine a shadow figure whispering in a mirrored hall. Its words loop back on themselves like snakes swallowing tails:
“No other being can do to you what you don’t want to do to yourself.”

At first it sounds profound. But the more you listen, the more it twists. The mirror bends until you’re staring at your own reflection accused of betrayal. Every blow from outside suddenly feels like your fault. That’s the trick: the words don’t empower you, they bind you in a guilt spiral.

But then the mirror cracks. You see the shadow’s face: a fraud. It isn’t wisdom. It’s a con artist in disguise, trying to make you sign a false contract. The contract that says: if you hurt, you asked for it. You drop it. You watch the words crumble like chalk wiped clean from a board. The hall of mirrors turns to dust.

Core Insight

Twisted language survives by disguising blame as depth. It feeds on paradoxes that sound empowering but secretly make you responsible for every wound. The truth is simple: external harm is real, and responsibility for it does not belong to you. Your agency is real, but it does not erase reality.

When you strip away the twist, all that remains is clarity: my choices are mine, others’ actions are theirs.

Saturday Experiment

1. Spot the Twist — Catch any phrase that doubles back on itself, that makes you both culprit and victim at once.
2. Translate Plainly — Rewrite it in blunt everyday words. (e.g., “If you get hurt, it’s your fault.”)
3. Break the Contract — Say: “Fraudulent wisdom. Not mine.” Bin it. Visualise it turning to dust.

Sunday Reflection

• When he hears paradoxical words that seem wise but leave him guilty, how does he now cut through them with clarity?
• How does he separate choice from blame in his own story?
• How does he remind himself that no twisted tongue can erase the fact that he is free?