Broken Words

Flushed with excitement, I wait patiently for him to return home. It's only been a few hours, but already I miss him badly. Hearing his voice sends tiny blades of heat rushing through my body. I instantly begin chatting away, 50 miles an hour. Asking him about his day, listening to his adventures.

Again I start chatting, not waiting for responses, caught up in my own rush of excitement. He let's me go on like this for a bit. I don't see it, I don't sense it, but he is annoyed somehow.

Cutting me off in mid sentence, he asks sarcastically if he may speak now. The tone of his voice cutting deep into my chest. The excitement gone now, my mouth still open with my finishing unspoken words stuck inside like paste. He pauses for a long moment and begins speaking again. Then asks me what is wrong, because of my silence. The blow already dealt to my fragile heart, my stomach churns as if punched. But it was just words he spoke that hurt me so.

When did I get so weak?  So weak that mere words could penetrate my walls and deliver painful blows to my body and soul.  Must have been when I was so blinded by what I thought was pure love, I opened up and let him glance inside. I Left myself open to any onslaught he chose. Now I pay the price for that stupid decision.  When just words can rip apart my heart and throw it on the floor. I had left a crack for him to go in and out as he pleased.

I listen as he still insists on inquiring about my silence, about my feelings.  Feeling the old familiar sting behind my eyes as they suddenly begin to cloud with moisture.  A feeling I thought I had buried long ago and was promised to never have to feel again.

I rush to the bathroom and slam the door, turning the faucet on full blast.  I would give no one the satisfaction of seeing or hearing my pain.  Pain caused by just words.  As I stand there, hands on the sink, supporting my body, I feel safe enough to let the tears flow freely.  I can't stop them, as hard as I try, they continue.  My eyes swelling, my nose red, my tears run like the faucet.  My mouth open, as all the pain inside bubbles up and rushes out in whines and whimpers.  The noise from the running faucet drowning out my tortured sobs. I learned this trick again long ago, to cover my sobs.

As time passes and the sobs subside a bit, I grab the toilet paper and blow my nose furiously. Wiping my eyes trying to hide any trace of the pain.  I realize at this point that the pain runs much deeper than his words.  They have been building for a long time, and my soul decided it was time to release it, all of it, at this moment.

His words spoken were not so harsh, I have heard and felt the sting of much worse.  I sit again and listen to him coo in my ear.  Telling me how sorry he was, telling me how much he loved me.  How sorry he was.  I hang on a fragile ledge, knowing it would not take much to set me off again.  I remain silent and he gives up.  Gives up far to easily and decides to go to bed.  It's really not his fault, he doesn't know what else to say or do.  I let him go and still continue with my silent vigil.

Contemplating my latest actions alone, I try to figure out when I lost my rough exterior.  When did I lose my armor.  I thought of myself as so tough and hard to hurt, living that way for so long.  I had shut the world out so I didn't have to feel anymore.  Older now I thought myself wiser.  Lessons learned from the past, I would not make the same mistakes.  Feeling it was time and I could open up again and learn to trust again, to feel again.  What a rush of so many intense emotions, I had forgotten them.

Opening up, meant this tough girl could wear her heart on her sleeve and not worry.  Not worry that someone could stomp all over my hopes and dreams with just words.  Finally being able to trust someone enough to share those dreams and keep them and me safe.

A childish dream I realize now, much too late.  Even at my age I had a lovely dream, that's all just a dream.  Tough girl I realize only in my words, underneath the shell I was raw and as tender as any child.  That thought devastates me.  I had believed my own lies I suppose.  Believed I was strong, strong enough to feel again.  Sticks and stones may break my bones but names (words) will never hurt me.  Sarcastically I repeat the childhood phrase in my mind with a sneer.  What a stupid phrase.  I've had both, the sticks and the stones and the names (words).  Trust me the names hurt me worse.  Give me the sticks and the stones any day.

I awaken now to the fact that it is much easier to shut down and not feel.  It's too hard to feel, it's much easier to just go through the motions and not have to deal with the ups and downs and the pain.  I managed this long without it, and it worked fine, and it was safe.

Opening up meant for me that I gave someone enough power over myself that just a glance, just a look, a sigh, a harsh word spoken, could crush me.  I was too weak.  Maybe I wasn't meant to feel in this life, because I felt too much when open. 

I can feel the walls building up again, stone by stone.  Slowly building my fortress, and I begin to feel safe again. Content to sit inside, in the dark.  The smooth stone texture cool and comforting to my soul, to my heart.  No pain here, only silent darkness that swallows me inside it.  Yes I am safe once more, closed off from the world.  Going through the motions, masking myself and appearing normal to all.  But feeling nothing beneath the surface, because I am safe again.  Safe behind my walls, where no one can harm me again.  Strong once more, a smile crosses my face.

Now nothing can hurt me.  I'm back, determined more than ever to keep the walls intact.

No more words can hurt me.

No more anything can hurt me.  Laying my face against the cool stones, swearing they are the only ones that ever loved me truly.