Sometimes, it hurts to be…

Sometimes, things just happen – there isn’t anything anyone could have done to change the way our world is; for it to be different to the way it may be now. Yeah – we can point the finger, say the blame, accuse in anger – but things these days can’t be undone. Ohh that we could make things as though they hadn’t ever happened at all…

Sometimes I don’t want to admit what’s going on inside of me – running, hiding… but it’s become a part of me and where ever I go…

Sometimes things are too difficult to understand. We find ourselves not clever enough. It may be so great a thing hurting us inside we’re unable to let it go – it grips and wants to tear us – malicious and cruel…

Sometimes I have to realise – I’m a person too. We ourselves also deserve kindness, gentleness…

Sometimes…

He smiled. You know; THAT kind of smile. The kind that melted her heart every time; the one he knew he could shine at her and get away with almost anything. Yeah – you know the one. It took her breath away and hooked her heart like no other thing on this earth could; like nothing ever would again.

 She wondered if it was always intentional or was it just a part of a plastic life he lived when he wasn’t with her – or worse – was it when they were together that the plastic life existed. For some reason she could never face or fathom, it really didn’t matter. When he was with her, nothing mattered anymore; the clouds lifted, comfort and happiness seemed to brighten her life. (What do they know?) No one would or could understand and so – with her eyes shut tightly and her breath held forever, they lived the dream, her dream…

Arms that are so strong, eyes that are so honest, a heart so big - accepting, and a voice to calm the raging seas of life…

We are stronger that we think and so often we expect our friends to be more than they can be – I don’t know why, it just happens that way for some reason.

Do you feel as insecure as I do? I’m one of the lucky ones. Insecurity only cloaks it self around me sometimes but it’s not a bad thing or something to be ashamed of; it’s a truth that’s easier to work through if we can accept that it’s natural. We’re all so different but deep inside, we’re really not that different at all.

In a crowd is most comfortable for me; just join a group, join in or not and be a ‘no’ body. Smile and don’t take anything personally. Allow others to be able to talk about other things and other people even if I feel they’re talking about me. It’s easier to give others the benefit of the doubt; I know I deserve it, perhaps they do too.

BUT – in a one on one situation with someone new? Well that’s totally different! Fear is a dreadful thing isn’t it? I don’t understand why fear is so strong, all I know – it just ‘is’. I have no idea what wrong this ‘stranger’ has ever done to me but I picture them as the old meanies that I’ve known before. They get in don’t they? The meanies of our past and present, somehow it’s difficult not to expect the same cruel treatment from the new faces we speak to – even going so far as putting the old faces on them as a mask so when we get hurt, it’s not so bad because while we are dealing with the old face masks, we’re ready and expect the cruel treatment and hurt.

Sometimes we set ourselves up to fall. I don’t know why but I do know these new friends are not the old ones and they deserve better. Really, I don’t know how to stop the walls from building up, from protecting myself from scary memories and imaginations, but it would be a lot nicer for others if I could.

There are some people I may never let ‘in’ but their kindness will live on in my life forever – and there are the few who will always be right here in my heart…

Right here deep in my heart - always…

Soft, warm, breath in my hair, brushing skin – everything gone and there’s nothing I can do about it…

She opens her eyes, they feel tired. They are small slits in her face, swollen from the un-metered out pouring of tears. There were times the force of pain, racking through each uncontrollable sob, were trying to take the hope of a next breath away from her completely, she would not recover – she would die. Then as a thin flow of air fought its way into her lungs, the fear of death turned into regret – she would continue to feel this pain…

Shivering in the cool winter air, she fights through to snuggle deeper into the bed where an old familiar warmth would be waiting for her – another soul to wrap into – but all she found was emptiness; alone…

The warmth was all encompassing as she moved slow motion towards the door. A huge door of wood, its beautiful natural red shone through the grain; comfort. As much as she tried, the handle found itself beyond her reach and though she strained until her muscles knotted tight, her hands were unable to grasp their mark; frustration.

By force of will, she relaxed and began to breathe deep and long, allowing her body to realign it self, releasing muscles, re oxygenating her mind; respite.

He spoke gently, it seemed like a whisper but the tone was not lost. He spoke to her for a while before she realised his words were not simply thoughts of her own; curious.

A stranger, unfamiliar, warm and encouraging – he spoke of goodness and worth, he mentioned tears and laughter, of living not for the dead but for those who choose life. She felt the stroking of her heart, healing of her bruised and battered spirit, a filling of the emptiness inside and she felt the impact of his way as he changed her barrenness into fruitfulness…

Two days later she awoke; drowsy but whole. Her eyes were open, she was breathing and hungry. Pulling back the bed covers, she dared to place her feet on the cold wooden floor – comfort – stood up and headed toward the kitchen for the first time in the longest time…

There is 'always' hope...