Besides the weird, uncomfortable way that the past will always be mine, I’m perfectly fine. A voice inside yells at me, sometimes, to put it into words…but I refrain. Who would the audience be? Participants? Strangers? Friends and self-proclaimed foes?
I was devoted to making something better. So devoted that I made it worse. And all it took was the truth.
Why couldn’t we have had one decent conversation? One honest, logical conversation about what was happening and what we could do to make things right?
What I really wish, was that I could erase the shame and disappointment.
If I had to name one moment – from any of it – where my reaction was pride… pride? How about pride.
There was none.
If only I had been more personally developed back then. How could I have lived so long without using that as a determining factor for every decision I made?
I wish I could have looked at one good thing, where there was no hidden agenda behind it, and have been able to say that I was proud of that person. Instead every chapter was another selfish action and its dark, well-told consequence.
Another kid older than a marriage. And their legacy lives on.
The biggest secret I knew, I began to reflect. My own legend was interrupted and there was nothing prideful in giving one heartfelt word.
It will always have been a bad idea.
It will always have hurt me the way it did for as many times as I let him write to me throughout my life.
It will always involve manipulation.
The answer is in the severed tie,
Something that will never feel good or simple or without loss,
But an end all the same.
One chilly night I got to thinking like I always do, and I looked out into the blackness. I thought of an old Britney Spears interview where she said that she believed in "putting it out there, into the universe", what you want to happen so that the energy can be received and delivered. My message in a single, parting thought?
"I DARE you, to make me proud some day."