None of the things I say will really make sense to anyone who reads this. It's just some stuff I need to get off my chest. If the person who this is about happens to read this. . .well. . .I doubt it will happen.
Part of me still hates you for the pain you put me through. I was so young at the time, so naive, and you came into my life at a time when I needed a saviour. And yet, you walked out as easily as you walked in, leaving a wound that never quite healed. Through the years you've walked in and out of my lives and few times, and each time I never really learn from my mistakes; each time I let you in despite knowing what's coming at the end.
Despite that part of me that hates you, or perhaps to spite it, the tiniest part of me remembers the happiness you gave me in my time of need. You treated me like I mattered when no one else did, and for that, that tiniest part will always love you. You may say that I never loved you, that I was too young and naive to love you, but maybe that's the reason I did love you. I think the purest form of love is the form that has been untainted, or suffered little taint, from pain and heartache. Perhaps the young are the ones who really know how to love, and all of us older ones only know how to show that guarded affection. The point is moot though because you will say what you will say,
Despite how tiny that part is, I still feel compelled to help you whenever you need it. Anytime you're in pain, I feel it too. I hurt when you hurt and the only way to make it better is to help you. You're like a drug; I know you're bad for me, I know I shouldn't want to be near you, shouldn't want you, but my mind and heart have been forever altered. You've been in my life the longest. . . .you were my real first. . .the one who first showed me loving affection. . . even if maybe it was to use me. . .
I will always hate you for what you did. . .but I will always love you in spite of it. . .
1 comment:
Funny how that works, isn't it?
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