rAw aNd ReAL

dear jess,

We love at the expense of getting hurt. We make good friends at the expense of being betrayed. We share at the expense of being laughed, mocked and shamed at. We ask at the expense of being rejected. We forgive at the expense of being wronged again.

We close ourselves up at the defense of our emotions. We are sarcastic at the defense of our own insecurities. We stay away from relationships at the defense of protecting ourselves. We fail to share the truth at the defense of letting people know who we really are inside.

I hate it when someone talks to me about my letters to you. Asking me why am I this way. As if I should explain further the raw truth that came so hard to explain to you in a letter read by so many. He would ask me this as if my purpose was to be dramatic.

I hate it when the person who claims my loyal friendship treats me as a stranger when he is back and doesn’t speak to me more than 5 words or ask me out for a catch up drink. And yet to someone else I do the same.

I hate it when I think that I can keep my feelings free from a relationship and then when I’m hurt I cry, off the lights and type a letter to you in the dark.

In the deep recesses of my mind I get the feeling that someone is going to get hurt. And yet I use him. Maybe because he’s nice or maybe because he makes me laugh. Or maybe because he’s just there.

Mutual misuse. Even then, someone is bound to get hurt.

There is nothing wrong with hurting and giving hurt, only when you know it might happen with or without your doing.

Honesty. Its such a hard thing to do. Impossible in fact. Someone told me she’s going to approach this single one person who’s done me wrong. Finally someone who’s fighting my battles, the one that has for so long left a scar in my heart, the one that no one came up to me and apologize for the scars they left permanently.

The other day I put on my gold chain and choked in tears for the person who gave it to me.

If I know so much about causing hurt why should I let him into my life knowing that someday it will be his tears, and mine too.

growing too old for my own games,
jess