I want to start with I love you.
I want to start with this because this is not a decision I make lightly and I want you to know its done out of love, both of self and of you. I have a confession, so best to start with that. I’ve been trying to fix you. I’ve been trying so hard to make you see what I see because it hurts me you don’t see it. It hurts me so greatly because you and I are so much alike. Everything I dislike in you I see in me. The light I see in you is one I feel when in the heart of myself. I’ve been trying for you to see yourself through my eyes, in all your glorious humanity. The light darkness of you. The positive negative. The beautiful ugly. I’ve been trying to fix your blind eyes.
We run so close in kind and likeness, I forget you are on your path, which remains yours to walk, and I remain on mine. I’ve been where you are, I’ve overcome some of the things you are struggling with, I want to help so bad, because it reminds me how I suffered to see you do. And you ask advice, you ask me what to do, and when I answer you: you agree, then reject, then agree; but it doesn’t seem to stick in your mind like it has in mine.
Understandable, as I’ve lived that experience which led to each conclusion, and you have not. It is understandable you wouldn’t trust advice from me when you don’t even trust advice from yourself. And I, I have been so impatient.
Do you know when we see an action, even just a generated representation like in film, that our minds can’t distinguish between ourselves or the other acting it? Our minds literally reacts as if we ourselves performed the action. (Its why I dislike horror movies.) When you worry so, when you fret, when you indecisively waffle, and ask, and reject, I feel the pain of your conclusion; the mouse in the machine running circles of mad and mindless claustrophobia. And I want to help, selfishly. Which is exactly as I have learned to do, in order to take care of me–
But you are you. And you are responsible for keeping you happy, as I am for me. And as I wish you to respect me, and not encroach upon my self; as I expect you not to control me, I should not try and do so to you. Even as your unhappiness makes me unhappy. Even as your confusion confuses me. Even as your worry worries me.
Perhaps I should not try and offer solution or suggestion or observation. This, I understand, annoys people as they see it as judgment– which it is–and negative– which it is–and therefore bad– which it only is if they and I perceive it so. I try so hard to see the good in everything, in the negative, I don’t believe in bad. And we all make judgments, its how we develop self. I make no excuse for humanness.
You complain I am trying to change your beliefs. I admit I am. You try and control the flow of conversation– take turns like in kindergarten–but I dislike such imbalanced control–I try and wrest it from you back into normal parameters…
Is this the result of two antisocial creatures attempting socialization? Is this two humans trying to humanize? Is this two hearts trying for harmony? Is it all of the above? I wish I knew the answer. I always try and see what was wrong with my actions, after the initial anger spouts an automatic snarl in the other direction. I usually conclude some fault with me …
And I forgive myself that fault. I try for new behavior. Here, I feel I might have limited choices. I could allow you to flail about, myself held in check from checking you, and perceive the pain and hurt myself, or repeat an attempt to change you, or walk away. These options seem all I have. I wish there were other more kinder ones. Ones which didn’t shake my soul. I wish I could turn something upon you which heals and gives and helps. But I am in need of help now. I am suffering now. I am hurting. Because your hurts have buried themselves in me. And I already suffer my own.
I see it now. I need to take care of me. Just as I need leave you to yourself. And this is I why I say I love you. This is why I say I don’t make this decision lightly. This is why I say I love me.
And wish you all the enlightenments I’ve reached.
PS: (The address is satirical; I know this isn’t your name)