Friday, September 10, 2004

the good burn

We are often blind to the damage we do to other people. We scrape and we cut and we rub them raw, then turn around and act scandalized by their retaliation to this behavior. Then we turn suddenly and say, "Why are you so sad?" "Why are you so angry?" "What on earth have I done that was so awful to make you think I deserve this?" We seem incapable of seeing things from the other person's perspective. Incapable of understanding that turning cold to someone you once acted as if you cared for is a form of cruelty in and of itself. Unable, suddely, to remember that people do not heal instantly, no matter what they try to convince you of or how they smile weakly to please you. We all need to be apart from the weapon that dealt the blow, no matter how small the wound may be.

At this point in my life, that scene can be nothing more than history. A painful history that will now be left behind, except for the occasional dive from this upward spin of letting go. Even the dive down is necessary, on occasion. We cannot allow ourselves to completely forget where we have been. Otherwise we would not realize how far we have come.

It is strange and wonderful, walking out into the world I had so casually let slip by and catching the sun burning me eagerly. I love the red and the pink of it. I delight in the change of color in my skin. That charge of feeling when the sun is warming up to me and sweat rolls down my forehead from my hairline to the tip of my nose in one fluid motion, as I turn to catch my breath from all the excitement of the breakdown that led to the release that led to whatever this is that I am now in. I smile through my dark glasses, eyes closed, at the brightening day. At the new experience that is a resolution to live louder than I ever have before.


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