Words

One sentence. Sometimes that’s all it takes.

I never understood that phrase “Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me.”

It’s a lie. Words hurt.

So are the way they are said.

There usually always comes the apology.

“I’m sorry. It’s just the way I am,” they say.

Like they think it’s just ok and that you have to accept that it’s just the way they are.

And then somehow, that apology turns into another insult,

followed by their need for appraisal because they just want you to make them feel ok about saying “I’m sorry.”

And you’re just sitting there, trying to comprehend how you keep finding yourself in this position, being talked to like you’re their child who threw a house party when they were out of town.

But, you remind yourself that their words are a result of their baggage that they haven’t yet learned to pack well.

I’ve seen this time and time again, clothes hanging out of open suitcases and zippers that are broken.

And you’re the conveyer belt that’s forced to carry them onto the plane.

 

 

 

 

 

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