through the skin
Last night I stayed in Jack’s room. His fan makes everything cold sometimes. Shrug. And he encouraged me to move my things down into the garage, and his room.
This morning, Mark said he can’t stay in the house, which means Jack and I might stay put, or still move out to some place cheaper for the two of us. We’ll see.
Then I went to the salon for work, and he text me. “Dont’ leave me” it said. Then he said something like despite what he said to me, he still wants to be with me. I didn’t respond.
And later, he showed up at the salon. At 2pm to be exact. And we spoke for an hour. We spoke calmly, and specifically. Then he asked for closure and I asked what he needed. He asked for a hug. I stood up and wrapped my arms beneath his and around him.
I hadn’t hugged him in a while. He felt warm and strong. His arms gently wrapped around me, but firmly. He glided his hands over my back and tucked he face into my neck. I cried. I wanted to say everything was okay, that we would work everything out.
But it would’ve been a lie. We would’ve gone good for a while, and had another disagreement that would’ve escalated to an argument that would’ve been covered with more words and broken promises. Words I shouldn’t say, because it’s not right to tell someone you care then treat them with disdain and hatred just because you’re angry. It would be unfair to tell him I loved him, then hurt him because I can. It would be cruel to tell him I can change – when I don’t know if I can. it would be unjust … and just…..mean for me to let him think one thing when I mean something different.
And he is so much like me – he’d do the same thing.
Mirrors never lie
I have learned much about myself being with him. Things I thought I did that were okay or excusable. Actions that I believe in and bring reason to the table if someone disagrees with them.
When I hurt, I want to make someone else hurt – and that’s not good.
When I’m angry I want to get someone else angry with me, at me, for me – and again, that’s not good.
And none of it helps either.
I have to heal from old issues and “wounds” as it were from other experiences before I can think about being with someone again. I am not perfect, and I don’t want to be. But if I can’t respect myself and my choices and my own words, how will anyone else? And how will I provide those same things for another?
Actions speak louder than words.
Words echo and can hurt as much as a physical bruise.
But time, in time you forget the actual physical pain of something like an injury. A broken bone or bruise. Words imprint on the inside of you, and for some reason it doesn’t seem that time can break through the skin fast enough.