I hurt myself today
…by hurting someone else.
I did something really silly. In hindsight, silly would not be my choice of word. A moment of clear, unbridled stupidity would be it.
The boy and I were lying in bed, cuddling. The topic shifted to a game that kids play—maybe those at his workplace, or maybe as a young kid in the old days, or maybe as himself (who I can rightfully describe as having a seven year-old stuck in an adult body). Then I said something incredibly, absolutely, horrifying stupid.
So stupid that I could see the mic drop before it left my hand. As the words rolled off my tongue, as I uncomfortably searched for a better substitute of words mid-sentence… it just happened. Like a sharp knife in the hands of a skilled sushi chef slicing through fish, it materialized so swiftly, with a speed so deadly I couldn’t believe I remembered every single microsecond that unfolded.
The churning of my stomach. The shiftiness in my gaze. The lump in my throat. The clammy, sweaty hands of mine as I held his.
And then my eyes met his. A mix of disappointment, shock, disdain and disgust, all perfectly orchestrated in a single electrifying gaze. Like a singer reaching for a crescendo, I breathed in deeply, and an apology escaped with my exhalation like clockwork.
I have hurt him. I knew it. No apologizing can ever take it back.
The next morning I woke up, alone in bed. He was dressing for work. As he walked into the bedroom for a goodbye kiss, setting off a series of signature creaks that our wooden floor squeaks, a wave of shame washed over me.
What have I done? As I sobered up from my winter morning stupor, I knew that I have dealt some serious damage. The perniciousness of my comment started to grow on me.
As I sat at work today, I thought about him a lot. How would I feel in his shoes? I would have felt horrible. Insulted by the rudeness of it, offended by the audacity of it, surprised by the suddenness of it, disappointed by the crudity of it.
I texted him, and he told me how hurtful my awful choice of words were. I apologised, again, and then I realised something: my hurtful words are collateral.
For the hurtful words that I have said to him, I have hurt myself even more.
There is a Chinese saying that goes “一言既出，驷马难追”, which roughly translates to “a word that is said cannot be taken back by a carriage drawn by four horses”. In other words, like spilled milk on a pavement, a word, once said, can never be taken back.
I was deeply mad and disappointed at myself—because I care for him so much, and it agonises me to see him distressed by such rudeness that was completely uncalled for. And the worst feeling is knowing that no amount of apologises, no number of pretty bouquets, no extent of lavish gifts or dinner spreads will ever make me take back what I have muttered in a moment of unbelievable imbecility.
I hurt myself today by hurting someone I love.
But instead of crying over said spilled milk, I have taught myself a very important lesson. Saying hurtful things to strangers only hurt them, but doing the same to the ones dearest to you ricochets like a bullet hitting concrete. Onto yourself.
Picking your words wisely is the safest way.
p/s: I love you, and I will never do this again.
