Listen to This

You live in a world of broken mirrors. Fragments reflecting a twisted reality of distorted perception. I see you there, fighting the Naga-King, and my impulse is to leap in and help you. To take up the sword by your side.

But when you see the glint of my blade in the sliver of cold glass you hold like a teardrop in your hand, you think I am coming after you. And you start projecting. Flinging words looks energy insults anything to make you feel in control again.

Everything to swirl about in a cacophony of distraction that makes you feel safe again. Spotlight diverted, you retreat back into your wonderland, pushing the uncomfortable memories and images aside. Clinging to the imagined-story that keeps you going.

Pause and dialogue are your worst enemies. You live in fear of truth, finding refuge behind manipulation after manipulation, holding up shreds of shattered mirror to everyone you see. Saying, “See how broken you are? See how lost, angry, and abusive?”

I want to kiss you. Kiss you until you drop the shreds of sharpened glass, and take my hand into yours. I want to whisper, “I love you. I’ll love you forever. I’ll love you for always.”

Urge to share some kind of upaya, some toolkit, some how-to manual. Yearning to offer you haven, ground, support, love. “It’s okay to cry,” I want to tell you. “Feeling is not your enemy.”

But my heart can only take so much. And my skin carries the scars of your fear, the wounds you’ve inflicted upon me when all I wanted was to love you. To be there for you. To become an ally. To show you that I’m on your side, and rooting, always, for your success.

Love isn’t a battle. Love isn’t sacrificing my wellbeing to uphold your skewed version of the everyday, keeping you chained to the lock on the basement door in your soul, every action calculated to keep the boogeyman away.

No, that isn’t love.

And I’m weary from years of apologizing for things that were not, could not be, my fault.

I wish you could see inside my core; see that I want to take away your nightmare, and replace it with truthbeautyconnectionauthenticityjoyousexpressionhealthvibrancyadorationaffectionintimacy.

Instead, you look at me and your shields go up. Defense-mechanisms popping out so frantically that they spill over onto the cold, cracked concrete. You look at me and you panic. You look at me and you wince. You grimace. And fall backward.

You don’t see me; you see all that I conjure up. You see the memories replaying in your mind; you see me, reminding me of you; you see everything that you’ve run from, and the reasons that you’re still running today.

Once you looked at me, and said, “I think we’re supposed to hug now.”

And my heart cracked from the iciness in your words.

My eyes welled-up with tears as I embraced you.

I wish I could be your partner-in-crime, breaking you out of your script that no longer serves, cracking you open to the Light.

Apparently, that’s not my destiny.

Apparently, I can’t bring the superglue, and this story doesn’t end like Humpty Dumpty’s.

Apparently, the most kindness I can show you, and the deepest love, too, looks like me learning who I am. Looks like me growing into myself and finding my own suns and demons. Looks like me individuating, without guilt or fear or shame. Looks like me listening to my body, and following the map it shows me. Looks like opening my arms wide to the Universe, and shouting, “YES, AND…”

Looks like cutting the ties of my empathy chains. Looks like me climbing the stairs up and up and out of the basement that keeps haunting you. Looks like me kissing the Earth, and being grateful for this opportunity to heal, to LIVE.

I will always love you. But my loving of you will no longer look like self-neglect or martyrdom. I love you too much for that. I love you too much to be devoted to anything other than becoming my best self.

(It’s true.)

Popularity: 11% [?]