The Weight Of Words

“When we do things with love, even if we believe we have failed, something good can always come out of it, something good can be made from it, because the initial substance with which we started is the purest of them all: love. Such a tiny, all-encompassing word that we can feel better than we can explain.

Good things in their purest form take time, effort, dedication, and perseverance. It’s never easy, but it’s always worth it. Fight. Fight fiercely and humbly for everything you believe in. As long as your motivation is sincere love, you will never truly fail.

Everything in life is permeated by the very real magic of love. Choose to see things, people, and situations through that lens and your path will always unfold before you. We can never truly measure the impact we have on others, but as long as love is our motivation, we will leave the Earth a better place than how we found it.”

I wrote the words above in a letter to my sister the morning of the day I met you. Sometimes even I’m surprised by what I write, which is why I like having words as evidence; during times when I’ve lost touch with myself, they form a trail that reminds me of what’s important.

Words carry a lot of weight. This means that, when we’re reckless with them, people get hurt. We know this, we say it, we acknowledge it, but we don’t really process it until it happens to us.

Meeting you was magical, but seeing that magic abruptly come to an end was heartbreaking. Fast forward to today: As I sit here writing this and wishing I were back in the mind-set with which I wrote the letter to my sister –back to a time when the thought of meeting someone like you inspired a profound hope within me—, I wish you truly knew how destructive your words and actions were, how much pain they’ve caused, and how much I hope you never, ever, EVER, do that again to anyone. Ever.

I’ve been so angry at you since this ended. So, so angry. I hate being angry. It eats away at me. It strips me of my joy. It burns my insides and makes me feel like I want to punch someone at every turn. Never in my life have I wanted to own a punching bag more than I have in the past week.

Being angry makes me bitter and puts me in a pissy mood with the world. I walk around trying to hide the scowl on my face. I want to scream, but I don’t do it because there is no safe place to do so. I want to scream and cry without anyone watching or asking me if I’m OK, when it’s clear that I’m not.

I’m not used to indulging in anger. I’ve learned how destructive it can be to let it run loose, thus I’ve convinced myself that I don’t have the right or the privilege to allow myself to feel it. But this attitude is also intoxicating. My anger needs an outlet; the tricky part is dealing with how annoying it is while at the same time feeling angry and not allowing it to get out of hand.

I’m hurt and I’m frustrated. I want to scream at you, too, and show you how much you hurt me, but there’s really no point to that. No grace, either. Somehow, suffering in silence in this case feels more dignified. You don’t really deserve my time or any part of me, good or bad.

Except, I wanted you to be deserving of all of me. There’s the catch. I wanted you to be genuine, and trustworthy, and real, and the “you” I started getting to know and really liked and could see myself falling for. You were that person for a little while, until your mask fell off.

What’s interesting is that your mask falling off didn’t actually scare me. At all. I would’ve still chosen to stay by your side to continue getting to know you, supporting you in whatever small ways I could, but instead you chose to get rid of me in the most immature of all possible ways. To that last bit, I say: Seriously, grow the fuck up.

Although a part of me understands why you decided to cut ties, what I don’t understand is why you handled it the way you did. But most of all, what I cannot grasp –for the life of me—is why you felt the need to lie.

I really just don’t fucking understand why you had to lie about your feelings.

When I look back on our time together, I stand by everything I said and did while with you. I was truly, fully me. I never misled you. I never showed myself to be an irrational, uncaring person. If you had sat me down, looked me straight in the eye like any grown man would’ve, and explained what you were going through and that you needed to be alone, I would’ve completely understood. It still would’ve stung, yes, but the door would’ve probably remained open for future interactions.

Now that you’ve completely betrayed my trust, there’s no going back. Not unless you’re willing to move mountains and undergo the uphill battle that would be required to win me back. It’s doubtful you care at this point, though.

I really, truly, sincerely hope you can figure yourself and your life out during this process, because the man you aspire to be –that man I got to know before your mask disintegrated—is incredible. Absolutely incredible. It was the man I was looking for. You’re just not him yet.

It’s a shame it was such bad timing. And it’s a shame you were so reckless with your words and actions. You had me going for a while. But like I said: I forgive you, because only God knows how many countless times I’ve been forgiven in the past. My forgiveness doesn’t justify your recklessness; it simply means that I refuse to let it ruin me.

Here’s to working on myself again, and to regaining love, that love that has inspired me so deeply and that allowed me to become vulnerable with you despite the risk and the subsequent pain, and despite all of the past experiences that have left scars. We’ve all had them, but it’s how we come out of them that counts.

And, as a side note more to myself than anyone else, I will find him. I will find that guy that will prove all of the assholes wrong. He is out there, and he is worth every last bit of the journey of going through hell and emerging wiser and stronger, but none the worse for the wear… Only wearing pure, unadulterated love.

Photo by: Gautam Sodera / San Francisco, CA, USA

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