It feels like it's been forever since I wrote something here. I post copies of my Youtube videos, yes, but to actually sit down and write something... it feels like a lifetime ago. Because of that, I figured, why not share a story? So here's a conversation between two people.
"Where do I begin?" he asked.
"I don't know. I can't imagine what it must be like to be in your situation," she answered.
He could see the pity in her eyes mixed with uncertainty. She looked at him the way he felt. Powerless.
"I've spent my whole life running away from these people who hurt me. I gone so far that I don't know my way back. How do you start finding the road to recovery? The road to healing? I know it begins with me but I've put up this wall to keep them away and my fear is that if I let them in, they'll just end up hurting me again. I am 50 shades of fucked up because of them."
"You can do it again, Build those walls back up if that happens," she responded.
"If only it were that easy. I've been broken so many times that I wonder how I manage to get out of bed every morning," he answered. He could feel himself welling up with tears. "Do I want to forgive them? Maybe. Am I ready to forgive them? Maybe not. Not yet. How do I forgive them when they're the reason I'm like this. I am fine where I am now, not knowing what's behind the wall."
She looked at him unsure of what to say next.
He took a deep breath.
"I love my mom, you know that. Even though she drives me up against a wall sometimes, I do love her. But sometimes I wonder, does she think of what I feel? Does she know what I have to go through everyday? The struggle I face?" he said.
"At least she accepts you for who you are," she said without a missing a beat.
"That's true and if that is the closest thing to love I'll ever get to experience, I'm fine with it. Beggars can't be choosers right?" he answered.
He hesitated for a moment trying to think of the words eh would say next. He had the thought in his head but could not find the words to express it.
"All I want is for her to realize that there is something inherently wrong with me, that I am not acting out or lashing out, that there is something wrong with me. I want her to realize that without me telling her. I want to tell her what I feel, what I've been feeling all these years. But I am certain that that's a conversation she's not ready to have. Not with me, anyway."
"Maybe someday she will," she said.
"Maybe. But for now, I'll keep the walls where they are. Let them think what they want of me but those walls are there because of them. Those walls are up so I can slowly put back the pieces of me that they broke many years ago."
