Sometimes it’s good to speak, to say the things that we’ve held close to our hearts, to the things that we’ve never shared or would never dare share even in our most inebriated or vulnerable states.
And just as equally, there are times when those same secrets, those same bits of information, those things that have helped define us or helped to hurt us, are damaging when they finally come spilling forward in an avalanche of last minute confessions.
I don’t have much else to say. It seems the more I speak these days, the more I feel like becoming a mute.
The problem with loving someone, whether it’s a spouse, significant other, family member, sibling, or parent; they’re really the only people that can inflict harm. And harm comes in incidental, unintentional ways.
Not everyone is graced with the eloquence to know exactly what to say, how to say it, and when to say it. We all stumble along blindly, we do the best that we can, and we try to cling to the good things we perceive, even though they eventually fall in to the background.
And what remains but the slings and arrows we’ve managed to accumulate, collect, and display in our heart of hearts. That’s where they remain, and will almost always remain in some form or another.
It is human nature to discard the good and endear the bad. We all do it. I just wish I knew why.