Sometimes, we find everything that is wrong with the world; our perception has always been tainted-something has always be missing.
Sometimes, we are offended by happiness and completion. It is uncomfortable, for it is new. It is not what we are accustomed to, and depending on how foreign it is to us, we may even chase it away. How dare contentment come in and rearrange the furniture of pain…take down the photos of bitterness, as though they were not beautifully hung?
Sometimes, our hearts are revolving doors for the men who hurt us. We yearn for the first one, that left, to stay. And because he doesn’t, oftentimes, the pattern of ‘ins and outs’ begins. I wonder ‘does he care that he’s created this cycle?”
Sometimes, at random, the tears fall, without provocation. It’s him, again. The little girl inside, has yet to gain peace, because there really are no answers to satisfy the hunger that starves to eat clarity. And it hits us while we are driving on the highway..or while we are watching television..or even while we are changing our child’s diaper. The pain never really goes away. It just goes to sleep, and you hope that this time…this nap…this rest..that someone slipped it a drug to cause a heavy coma, just to get through a few good years without feeling weak, for still loving a man, who didn’t choose you.
Sometimes, we have to choose mind over matter. We have to make conscious decisions to hold feelings hostage.. to protect the ones we love. It is done to ensure that the cycle ceases. If the tears were to constantly break free, seeping in front of our children, they would only drown- claiming yet, more lives. If the tears, were to constantly break free, bursting in front of our husbands, our protectors, then they would only sink in the mud. We cannot hold people accountable to fix, that which they’ve not been equipped to repair. Doctors cannot repair motors. Husbands cannot repair daddy issues.
Sometimes, we are so numb to the pain, we seek out the replicas. We imitate the very scene that caused our hearts to break. And sometimes, we are so resilient,that we avoid it at all costs. And sometimes, our closure comes in seeing our children raised by good men. The good men..they are out there. They don't look like our fathers, they don't smell like our fathers, they laugh deeply...their presence is heavy, and they stay. You hear them daily. They walk the floors in the morning. They lock the doors at night. They look stern, when necessary..and they’re love is never debatable. And our closure, slowly creeps through.
We are by no means victims, sometimes, we just need to set ourselves free.