https://open.spotify.com/track/5ZZvLDJtfMPey8eOUKnXdE?si=w5Mn72sFQQi1UrdLWJyQdA I don't call people when I'm hurting, because I don't want people to see me weak. Much like you, my wounds are mine, and they seep and continue to fester because I hold them to myself. You have come closer than most to really seeing me when I let myself feel those wounds. I know i have to let them out to allow them to heal, but my wounds are from how I've been treated by others, and some of those can't heal because they aren't around anymore.
And those who are around, already don't deserve me dumping my toxic waste on them any more than I deserved to be mistreated, or lied to, or betrayed, or hurt.
I constantly tell people to mind What they say, because words can have lasting effects. So I keep my words to myself when I'm hurt, when I'm mad, when I can't think beyond three words; because for overthinkers like me, words linger…words, echo… words rise up in the silence and haunt. Words spoken in pain or anger, echo louder and longer. So I've learned, so I keep a tight reign on my anger. Years I've spent learning to control that very volatile part of me that could do more harm by being unleashed than a physical slap. I let others run away with their words, because I know I can take them. They'll haunt me in the silence, and tear me apart when I'm least expecting, but I can take them; most of the time.
I've only had one recent experience Where I couldn't. When you told me you were done, wanted me gone, and to never come back. Those words, they broke me. I'd deserved them perhaps, but they broke me. Only your quick hug and apology when you registered that I was doing what you'd demanded stopped me from walking down those stairs and out of your life as you demanded in that moment. I hadn't let myself process the full of what you'd said, I'd heard only to leave, so I would.
In the silence those words come back, and flay me open, but I'd still have listened and done as you bid. Even now, I think I'd have walked those steps numb, my everything crushed and telling myself I'd deserved it. Even now in the silence, when the time has long past, I hear them and still think them true. You told me to stop blaming myself, that I probably did the only thing that could have snapped you out of the spiral you were in, and while you're likely right; the silence is cruel. I look on bottles hidden in my closet, and I consider emptying them to drown the silence, even as you did to drown the voices. I know better, but its tempting.
You tell me that my asking you to move closer breaks your heart, that you can't do that as it would cause strife between E and I. That you couldn't do that to me, or to the girls. That while the distance hurts, you'd rather that.
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