Have you ever had a question for someone, but they’re so out-of-reach you don’t know how to ask it? I do. I think the answer wouldn’t make me feel better, but the question is weighing my soul down.
It’s a simple, “Why did you say that?”
In my mind, I’m screaming it, or approaching them in a crowd and they don’t know how to respond.
“Why did you lie?”
“Why did you assume?”
“Why did you gossip?”
“Why did you–when I was your friend?”
The “WHYS” are killing me. The betrayal, because you thought something was pure and beautiful, and you could remember it that way. Yet–after learning of the rumors, it’s tainted and it makes you crazily bitter.
I never thought I’d be a bitter person. After forgiving and forgiving people, and they just keep burning you, you get tired of forgiving.
I finally understand the characters I made fun of when I was little. I finally understand the Disney villains, and the ‘insane’ friends.
And trust me, I never wanted to.