This will be a very cryptic post and for that I give you a million apologies. If you find yourself lost and struggling to make sense, I will not be offended if you take a pass and come back tomorrow. But, dear readers, sometimes I write for cathartic purposes. Maybe the letters that make up today's post are better suited for a journal. Forgive me, publishing to this blog is all I know...
My heart struggled to keep beating. For that moment, reading those words, it wanted to stop. I felt it. So deep in my chest it physically hurt. A pain like no other pain. With those six simple words the reality of the situation came flooding back. I stared at my phone, unable to move, the letters staring back at me. I wanted to run as fast as I could, escape the pain and the heartache. I wanted to be somebody else.
I read the words again, trying to find different meaning in them. My heart wanted to rip the sender to shreds for the pain. The phone on the other end of the letters had to have known the agony those simple words would cause within me. I wanted to lash out. I wanted the suffering to be felt by others. Misery doesn't just love company, it needs it. It thrives on it.
But, I couldn't do it. I couldn't spew venom, as much as my heart was begging me to. My heart needed the release. Just as two wrongs don't make a right, causing pain to others never makes me feel better. Over the years I have learned the pain my words can cause. The rage within me comes out so eloquently. The venomous words flow like water from my mouth. Within a heartbeat, the damage of my diatribe is done.
I couldn't do it. Ultimately, I cared. I felt pain because the situation had betrayed me. Not the person. I composed myself. Let out two pounds of a sigh and acknowledged those six words. I didn't run. I didn't bitterly attack. I suppose I'm still a work in progress, but I am making improvements.