Love, Honey
Is not simple to recognize your own mistakes.
Sometimes is easier to ignore what lies what in front of you and tell yourself that the universe will fix it for you. You try to run away from everything, everyone, and anything that might make you uncomfortable, but secrets have this nasty little habit of setting themselves on fire before you can find a way to solve them. And before you know it, you’re reading the horoscope daily and searching for tarot videos on TikTok, hoping you will find some sort of path or closure to all of your problems. But gasoline stinks, and no matter how crisp you end up, its easier to endure the flames over and over than to face the audience at the end of a dreadful and careless performance. Oh, what a night, right?
How easy it is to look at those who walk alongside of you and hold on to the comfortable notion that you are on the right path.
But what makes them wiser than you?
But what makes them experts on you?
We accept whatever lays in front of us, and we follow their words. We do it quietly, because the noise might shatter the illusion that all is going to be fine. But, in the end, all those insecurities are nothing more than a shield hiding a small like hero, too scared to stand up for itself. After all, sometimes the truth is too hard to bear — to accept that we need our own forgiveness rather than the words that might come up from another mouth.
So, tonight, I stand before the mirror I tell my own reflection that I love him. Because, what goes next, is not a pleasant task.
As a grin crawls back into its face, I ask him to forgive me, for all of those times I loved him less than I should have. I placed him in a cage and made him think that he was worth nothing. But, honey, the truth is, you're the main show. You're the opening act and the closing stage. Stand proudly, because you have nothing to be ashame of — you are worth the love. You are worth the ovation.
I ask him for forgiveness for living the dreams of those around me, and not the ones he had planned for both of us. Is so easy to confuse your own priorities when the world is screaming so loudly, that I forgot what it was like to place your expectations in somebody else's dream. I tell him, that he was right to forget about me, because I forgot about him.
Now, I know what he is going to say next, so I take a step forward and tell him to forget about those times that we settle for less. Oh, the stories we could fill with those who didn't deserve us.
We weren't ready to move away, but we didn't have to stay in the same place.
The humiliation I can take, but the anxiety is a young man's game, and we don't have the age for it anymore. Turns out, you don't have to seek approval, because you are already worthy of it.
Yet, even knowing that I have cleansed all of my past mistakes, most nights I felt like I deserved the pain. So, I hold the gaze at my own reflection one more time, and cry with him. I know the suffering and the agony of believing that you deserve all those senseless nights and all those voices inside your head. To stay silent and hold on to that emptiness because I used to think that no one was coming to save us — "we didn't deserve saving," is what I used to say. But I was wrong, champ. This self-inflicted purgatory is ours, and we decide when it is time to stop and move forward.
So I ask for my last forgiveness, which takes me back to a night I often fight so hard to forget. I took the easy way out, and forgot that we made a promise of never going down that path again. I failed us both, and my biggest apology will always belong to the night that I almost gave up for the second time. We don’t quit. And we don’t stop trying when things get out of hand. I can only hope that he can forgive me for abandoning our perseverance, and deciding that the void was something we couldn’t manage. I not only failed myself, and him, but those around me who trusted me and thought I could count on them. Now, there’s so little time, and so much love to fix.
Ironic, isn’t it?
The heart is bleeding, yet love is not painful, or at least it shouldn’t be.
If we are willing to forgive ourselves, we have to begin by accepting that life is not here to play a sick joke on us; Love does not seek to destroy us; Suffering is nothing more than a great teacher; And hatred is too heavy to be carried around.
I take a step back, knowing that I can look at myself and mumble the words “I love you” sincerely for the first time in months.
