Hello Ms. Worry Wart,
You’re doing it again. You’re allowing yourself to become so vulnerable but yet oh-so overwhelmed with the thought that you might get hurt again. You’re starting to drive yourself crazy with the worries of someone else and darling, you don’t need it. It’s not the first time and it won’t be the last if things don’t work out, but you can’t constantly worry if it’s going to. You’ll just make yourself sick. You and I both know you like to know everything. You long for every detail engraved in a place where it will never be forgotten. Hell, we both know it’s why you haven’t made a promise since the fifth grade. They always appear so flimsy, bending helplessly, just hanging in the air like a bird underneath the eye of a man with a gun. Something waiting to be damaged. A promise is something so fragile that’s not allowed to be broken, at least that’s what you would think right? But it happens all the time. It’s why I’ve stopped listening to them, stopped holding onto them like some corny keep sake.
It’s not that I don’t want to trust you, I wish I could, I really do. I regretfully just can’t. My mind just won’t let me. It’s as if my brain is at war with my heart, one that’s just never going to end. No matter how much I talk about it, it doesn’t do much. I’m continually repeating the same old song till I’m blue in the face and still, the words feel like glass in my mouth. The past has been a hearty reminder of the things that I was too naive to watch out for and what I want now just seems so far from my reach. The guilt of wandering and searching for an answer that hasn’t even conceived a question continually remain homeless. I want you, I do, but my mind makes it so hard for me to do just that. “It’s not you it’s me”…one phrase rewritten one too many times, but makes so much more sense than you may think. It’s me that makes it so hard to trust you, to keep you, to hold you, to believe you… it’s just…me.
I know you, surely, I must know you. If these years haven’t shown it, I don’t know what else possibly could. I’m typing on a board of black and white, conjuring up colors to make something so dark shine with a light of its own. I’m still thinking of what I can do to make such guilt sore off like those promises I’ve mentioned earlier before. At some point I've got to let it all go. I can’t hold onto lessons like there’s something I still have left to learn. I can’t let these lessons live when not all people are lessons that need to be learned. There are people that will stay if you simply stop treating them like they’re one of many people who have hurt you.
You want to be one, just simply, blissfully, one. So do yourself a favor, darling. Close your eyes. Let go. Breath.
Sincerely,
Me
