“The letter”
If you wanted to hurt me today then you got what you wanted. If not showing of your self was punishment, than I felt the lasses of the whip upon my skin. With each cut of the whip I felt deeply and the scars remain fresh. They are a constant reminder for me that I will never be all you want me to be.
I don’t know what you want anymore, for I don’t think inside you really know what you want. Yet I know you reach out to me then push me away time and time again. I, being the fool that I am, always come back hoping this time it will be different.
It’s not different, for it will never be different, will it? I will always be the bad one, the one that hurts you, and the one that you blame for your pain.
I must have read that letter a hundred times that you wrote about me and you read it out openly to everyone, everyone heard your pain, felt your tears, and their heart broke for you. For if I didn’t know any better than I do, my heart would break for you also. If I hadn’t known those words were about me then I would have been crying for you.
You packaged those words up like a Christmas gift under a tree, wrapped perfectly with a matching bow and you placed them in my hand. A gift to me with all the eyes of the world can see that it is me those words belong to. I lied to you when I said those words wouldn’t hurt me, for it did. Yet that’s what I do, I lie when I know things are going to hurt so deeply inside. I let people believe that I am stronger then I am, for I don’t want to be the weak one when others are around. I’m a soldier in body yet a child in blood.
I read each word and I logically tear them apart piece by piece and I hold each one under a magnified glass and study them, I desperately want to understand you and all that makes you, just you. Yet I still after studying these words you placed in front of me, I still can’t understand any of this.
How did we get here after all these years? How can I correct what you think is wrong when in my mind I do believe I have done right by you.
I am not a page in your letter, nor am I a chapter in a book, for I am the whole book, you just can’t skip lines or chapters and expect to understand the meaning behind the hard covers. You judge me on the surface of what you see and then expect me not to react to your actions.
I am a person just like you, I hurt, I feel, I am no different than everyone else. Yet you give everyone around you more of yourself then you give me. You expect me to always reach farther, deeper into you and always have the answers ready for you when you need them. I can’t handle this pressure anymore, for me myself am always in search of understanding and meaning also.
You know so little of me for I have always been silent about what goes on inside of my head. I always fear saying the wrong thing, doing the wrong thing and waiting for you to always say you’re leaving. You leave so often and always leave me with the mess behind to clean up.
How many times have you slammed that door on me, for I have lost count? How many times you said that you hate me, for those words still echo in the silence after the door slams closed? Those words drown me for they have been said to me so many times from you.
How many times is too many times for me to stay here and allow myself to be drowned by you and your pain? For I need air too! I need to be looked at and understood also. I need to be told of what’s good in my heart and not just my faults of all my wrong doings.
Yet that’s all you see, is my faults. You hang on to them and record them with dates and times. You want to be able to hang onto them for dear life and use them at your convenience when you feel the need to attack me, I will never be released of all this.
I will never be released by you and your pain.
I am just human, I cannot be packaged, I am not your words and you are not my Judge ……
Written by
DMD
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