In my attempt to age gracefully, I am growing more uncomfortable with the truth of human interaction. I come from a distant, blended family–built on stubbornness and violent frustration. It is my hope to never want for anything, while I own my individual quest for excellence. Sometimes, I sacrifice the internal fires of the ones I love without a second moments thought.
I am here in part, because a woman desperately sought to continue her line. She chose an act of love, of determination–and no one could convince her otherwise. I am a fact. The result of two people choosing to advance their union. They saw something worth fighting for in a world full of the lost.
Family–was their answer to a lonely existence.
We wrap fragile hearts in a parallel journey. Still, some will not comprehend the gravity of combining their lives. You will quarrel bitterly and resent your other half. Maybe, you will throw a decades old friendship away because you lost your mind. Only to recover it when it is too late to make amends.
I am a tattered end. There are nights I cannot recognize my eyes behind tears I cry when I am sure no one is looking. I question my ability to be wiser and think, wisdom is not worth the trouble of this hazardous road. What good is hindsight if you leave a trail of damage in your wake?
It costs nothing to be a good person, but the price of being innocent is always pain. Even then, the victim is never completely blameless. Monsters dwell in dark spaces under our beds–waiting until you gain your courage…before they take everything you have. I think about how I have become a villain in the narrative of certain peoples lives. How, at one point in time I was a little girl whose own family was infiltrated.
Someone, huffed and puffed and blew my house down.
Knowing a strong foundation could never be knocked to the ground.