I wish I could take those back, those words I said. Along with every laugh, every smile. Every kind word, both I meant and didn’t mean.
I never realized how painful it is to have a wish like that.
Everything was so easy back then, almost effortless. Even the most difficult conversation seemed seamlessly merge into one flow of comfort.
When doubt rushed in, I made the assurance. When insecurity rose, I built the confidence. I did everything I could to make every day worth while, to give faith in even dire circumstances.
I should’ve just told the truth. No motivational words, no sugarcoating, and give a reality check. I’m not cute, nor sweet, or maybe even decent.
I should’ve just come clean and said, “I’m too screwed up to even take care of myself, let alone other people. Don’t believe everything I said, everything I did. You should just run. Just get the hell out of here, before it’s too late.”
But like any other reality in life, it came too late.
It was too late to take everything back. It was too late to fix it. It was too late for telling the truth.
I believe, it’s even too late to ask for forgiveness and for closure.
It’s like talking to a wall, when you see nothing except cold, hard, flat surface. It gives echoes, meaningless to your effort to explain myself. If I retreat, it will stay there, unmoved. If I try to destroy it, I will get hurt.
I can try climbing it, but there’s no ladder in sight, and I’m already too tired to care.
My mind is tired of trying to figure out what I’ve done wrong. My heart is weak from the constant pain I’ve been trying to hide and deny. I believe that I’ve done everything I could, with no concrete result ever surfacing.
I’ve been trying to hang on to a false belief for so long, that I couldn’t let it go.
I believed the words, the promise to try to change. The promise to stay and work harder on getting better at living, and believing in something so abstract, now I feel stupid for believing it for too long.
Humans are incapable of keeping their words align with their actions. I found that harsh fact in a brutal way, when I was 10 years old, when I discovered that my best friend had been copying my tests answers for years. She was not as smart as I was, but cleverer, in cheating.
I wanted so bad to believe your words, your promise. When you failed to keep them, I blamed myself for believing, to keep you safe from harm, from my painful disappointment.
So you can stay and be the wall, the one I yell at, constantly, to no avail.
I will rest on you, as a flowering plant. I will rest on the wall. Silently, but with my roots digging on your insides. I will feed on you and your silence. For now.
Picture was borrowed from here.