I’ve always believed that words could be weapons but never felt the stab of steel sentences until you showed me your swordsmanship. And damn. It cut deep. Split me wide open and sliced through my paper-plated heart.
Some of what you said was true. Maybe that’s why it hurt so much. I saw myself in the blade and relived my mistakes in the reflection. I wish I could go back and take back everything I said, did, or didn’t do that made you feel like an artificial you. I wish I wasn’t so damn obsessed with being great. Because although that pursuit is a noble one, I wasn’t skilled or subtle or seasoned enough to chase that greatness without a Fall… without ego or attitude or an affinity for self-destruction. And the chaos that I created – and accepted – tended to hurt those closest to me in the process… And some of the debris from the explosion that’s called dream-chasing ricocheted off my intended targets and slammed unforgivingly into you… I wanted this path and I chose this path and I needed this path.. And this path needed me.. but I wasn’t ready for it. And I didn’t know that. Which made me both mysteriously sexy and beautifully dangerous. And hard to follow. And a shitty listener. And I’m sorry I didn’t learn all of this sooner. I’m sorry I wasn’t smart enough to understand the signals or notice the signs. But maybe that’s part of it.. Maybe that’s part of the suffering… Maybe it takes time to find the sweet spot between heathen and hero.. Maybe it takes losing to find that middle ground between faith and frenzy.. Maybe you have to break things before you learn how hard to push… Until you learn how much common sense to shake into your uncommon crazy… That perfect blend of passion and action and drive… Mixed together on a palette of humility and empathy and thoughtfulness. I was a fire-breather without an off switch. And – I know this is hard to understand – it was me who ripped the wires out… With my own fingers. Because I was afraid if I ever slid that switch down, then I wouldn’t be able to turn it on again… I would cool off and I knew I needed to be burning to go this far and move this fast and make this last… and ignite others along the way… And then I got so hot that you didn’t wanna touch me. Ain’t that a fucking trip?… Isn’t that such painful irony? The universe has its brutal ways of teaching sometimes… When I was my most focused and most clear and most powerful, you couldn’t even put your hands on me… Let alone your head or neck or lips… Let alone your heart… And damn, I wish I knew all this back then. Because then I would’ve done things differently. I would’ve slowed down just enough to come up for air. And during that one big breath I’d remember that purpose and passion is almost everything… but it’s incomplete when you don’t have that Person… And you were my Person… If I knew what I know now, then I would’ve turned the heat down so you could remember what it felt like to be in my arms again. And remember the feeling of me seeing you, and only you, and being so grateful for the view… If I lowered my temperature, then maybe you wouldn’t have swung such a searing sword.
Some of what you said wasn’t true. Not the kinda true that comes with a false. Because this stuff isn’t absolute. It isn’t black and white. Emotions, relationships, they’re about color… I’m talking about the truth that’s only seen by staring into someone’s eyes so long that you sink into their secret spaces… And the deeper you go, the more you read the writing on their walls and trace the pictures on their caves and try to make sense of it all.. The highs and lows, the hurtful and helpful, the good and the better… And in the words and pictures and figures you realize that true truth is so hard to believe because it’s so damn honest that it doesn’t make any sense. It’s laced with contradictions and layered with confusion because honesty is a constant battle between body, mind and heart. And unless you’re way down in that darkness, you don’t notice when Heart wins. Because Heart whispers, while the other two scream… And I was speaking softly, from the heart… But you were slashing while I was burning. And your words that stabbed the deepest were the ones that bloodied our beautiful memories.. And bludgeoned our favorite moments.. You were so intent to cut the part of me you hated that you didn’t care if you chopped up the pieces you loved.. The pieces that we made together.. And when you saw what hurt me you kept carving. Short and fast strokes. One after another. Ensuring every centimeter of my spirit was saturated with the handmade stains of your blood-strained words….
Pathetic. Selfish. Fake.
I felt the sharpness of your tongue with every single syllable… But that wasn’t truth… That’s not me… It definitely made me question myself for a while. It made me stop and stare at my shortcomings… And I’m grateful for that forced introspection. But I don’t believe admitting mistakes and fighting for love is pathetic. I believe it’s brave… And I don’t think pouring your life into your passions is selfish. I believe it’s a blessing… And while I understand that my single-minded focus left you stranded on your own isolated island, if you ever decided to wade out towards me… to join me… then maybe you wouldn’t have been so scared of the life I was building… Maybe the feeling I was feeling would have soaked into your own skin. And maybe we could have built an even bigger life together… But… maybe you didn’t care about the water. Maybe your dreams were on drier land. Maybe you wanted play dates and picnics, and I had other plans… You wanted to sit in fields. And I wanted to swim in the ocean. And maybe that’s just it. That your harshest words weren’t true or untrue. And neither of us was right or wrong. It’s just that one of us wanted to sit and the other wanted to swim… I’m not ready to sit yet.. I just can’t sit yet… But damn.. I wanted to swim with you.
And some of what you said wasn’t really you. It was the voice of sadness. And the noise of regret. It taught me how anger kidnaps our thoughts and forces us to forget… how it beats the good memories out of us. Disfigures them so we can’t even recognize them any more… And it showed me what happens when, in that newfound emptiness of our restlessly erased mind, we become lonely and afraid… And what happens when those two tigers of emotion turn into a giant dragon of resentment… And that when that beast is born, our conscience seems to pass away. And we become cold-blooded killers. Not because we enjoy inflicting pain but because we’re going through hell ourselves… And I realize that now. I realize you were hurting like hell… It doesn’t soften the blows, or weaken the wounds.. But it makes me still believe in the sweetness inside of you. Underneath that sheath of angry armor… And I hope you don’t keep it on for too long. Because I know it’s heavy baby… And I’m sorry if my aforementioned passion and lack of listening and laser-focus on something other than my love for you forced you to seek that type of protection… I’m sorry if it pushed you into that dark place… I’m really sorry about that… But I was ready to pull you out. But you… You were ready to cut the rope.
And maybe that’s the biggest lesson of all during this unplanned, undermanned bloodbath. That we can’t go back. And that we were both were sinking. And we needed a deeper love to keep it all afloat. Otherwise you scrape your head on the surface. And break your heart on the rocks. And the whole damn thing just falls apart. Lost and littered at sea.
It’s crazy how such a short conversation decorated my body with so many scars… I used to hate to look at them. I used to try to paint over them with a pretty brush. But no matter how hard I tried to cover them, they bled through… Aching to be remembered.
So now, I let them live.
I’m watching them heal.
They remind me of our laughter and pain. They remind me of what it felt like to find the love I’d been searching for… And then lose it… They remind me that it was all real. Every part of it… And I’m grateful for that… I’m grateful for you. And I hope you forgive me. Because I forgive you… I forgive you for the cuts you caused. Because I know they’ll make me better. And I know they set you free. And I guess, that makes it all worth it. Because you deserve to roam in your own range. And play in your own fields.
And I hope one day, once I find my magic place… Once I leave these maddening waters. When my dreams are dry and my fingers are wrinkled. That I wander into the prettiest of pastures. And fall right back in front of you.
And when that day comes, all I really want to say is…
Spark with Kash on the #besomebody iPhone app. Besomebody is an Experiential Learning Marketplace where you can teach or learn anything you’re passionate about by booking Experiences with people around you. Download it for free in the App Store. It’s time to live your passion. http://appstore.com/besomebody