Everything will be okay in the morning, we’ll fix it.
You can’t trust people who won’t hurt you. You can’t believe a word out of their mouths about anything that matters, because what if it’s bad news? What if they fucked up, and now you’ll have to hear from someone else? What if you did, and now you’ll never figure out how, or what you could do to fix it? What if she’s breaking up with you in two months because everything’s wrong right now, and you won’t find out why for five years when your heart’s been a smoking ruin for too long to heal?
You just can’t trust them. But you want to, because they tell you everything’s alright, that you’re going to be happy forever. That you’re in love.
It’s too easy to care about someone. It’s too easy to want them to be happy, to never want to see them hurt. And it’s too hard to hurt them, when it really matters.
Sometimes they’ll forgive you, sometimes they’ll understand. But not usually.
I got turned around at some point in my life. The sense I tried to make didn’t, to everyone I cared about.
Sean, and his girlfriends. I noticed something was wrong, and I told him. We’d be friends for such a long time, and longer each time. We didn’t really talk for a year after the first time, though we tried to pretend after a few months. The second time was just another cut over an old scar. The third time… he’s probably going to end up marrying her, which I still think would be the worst mistake of his life, but I had to tell him. Someone fucking had to, and it’s not like I was the only one who could. It’s been years, and we kind of talk, here and there. I don’t think we’ll ever really be close again. I don’t even care if he believes me, I just wish he understood why and didn’t hate me for it.
Jess. Set her up with her boyfriend, who was one of my closer friends at the time. Gave up on him but kept her. Got harder and harder, though. I made her cry, once, and I mean really cry. She’d been getting closer with Sean and leaving me out, talking about how sweet and supportive he was. I was so much more critical. She cried when I told her what he’d been saying about her when she wasn’t around, which is just what I said to her face. Such a small moment, trivial high school drama. But it broke something in me. When we left for college I tried to keep in touch, and included Sean because he was her friend too. It got harder and harder to meet up, eventually she just stopped responding to anything. Another friend told me, some time later, it was because it was just too difficult to talk to me, too harsh, too critical. It’s for the best, I know. I really miss her.
My ex. Too much to recount. Every time I tried to be honest with her, it went wrong. Yelling, screaming, telling me I’m wrong. Fights with no resolution, and it was so different than it had been with friends. Like sharp metal was twirling up my intestines every second we were fighting. It wasn’t a discussion, it was a “How could you?” emotional reaction from her. Sure, years later she was sorry and said she finally understood.
I wanted to help. I really did. It all just came out wrong.
It was true, even if it sucked. It was true, even if you didn’t want it, even if you were dying because you couldn’t face it and I’d rather you hate me for showing it to you and get better than keep stumbling in the dark.
It hurt every time I watched you fall, and I’m still losing sleep thinking about it.
But I guess it turns out that it wasn’t just that you hadn’t seen that truth, it was that you’d rejected it. So I just reminded you, and you hated me for that, and nothing changed. I was on the wrong side, I should have sided with you, except you weren’t even on your side. You were just running, and I wanted you to come back, because I’m so alone over here and wherever you’re going I can’t follow.
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