Car Crash

I recently said something I meant, but I said it to the wrong person, and I lost a friendship over it. I hate that words have that power - the magnificent power to express or destroy. How calloused can I possibly be, spouting opinions to the wrong audience, expecting understanding? It was rude, yet I couldn't help thinking how justified I felt. That spouting of the powers of destruction.

It was like watching a car crash in slow motion, watching it from the curb, and not being able to do a single thing to stop it. And I watched this persons eyes go from warm to cold so quickly I could have sworn I'd mistaken my own judgment. A look that sounded like splitting metal and smelled like gasoline. Hatred. Through the eyes of someone who tells me to forgive, to accept, to understand. Cold, unforgiving hatred.

And as I walked away from the argument into the violent, cold wind, I couldn't help but cry. Because I was hit with this awful realization that sometimes we can't control what we say. And we have to accept the consequences that come with that. Sometimes.

It seems that the most fatal of topics are those involving personal matters of the heart. Religion, loyalty, social politics. These are the most important topics, and yet they hurt us the most.

So tonight I will cling to what is the most comfortable - a conversation with a family member, another with a best friend, a text to a possible first date. I will watch Christmas movies through blurry eyes in the comfort of my own bed, and I will think, really think, about why safety is so important. And why it is important to speak when you think something is significant, even if it is offensive. Because that's the way you learn. By being human.

A wish.

Saturday night and cough drops.

Stringing beads on a thin wire, watching their colors blend together like a hurricane sunset.

Old friends and card games.

Midterms and makeup lessons.

Singlehood- Friend or foe? (Friend, I think.)

Not waiting for any sort of dramatic fall.

I wish it could stay this way forever. I could just stay in this bubble of twenty something, while still learning and growing, but not becoming jaded. Just safe.

I've been through the post-breakup steps. Forgiveness; of myself and of the other person. I've done all of the overanalyzing and over thinking... where did we go wrong? That stuff. It doesn't really matter anymore. I see it all so perfectly... clear as a raindrop. I am too young to know, we were too young to mature, we were just kids and still are. And how are we expected to be a certain type of love? Big love is reserved for those who can keep their minds. I don't think I've ever been in love. That's ok- I'm not afraid of that. Not as afraid as I am of not experiencing my life. I'll mess up a million times and fall in a dejected heap, but the bigger tragedy would be to never put myself out there. And I'm not just talking about relationships. I'd rather be that way than safe. But I can still wish for both.

What are facebook notes for? I never read the notes of others. They usually consist of those attention grabbing chain letters that are relentlessly popular. (I've participated before, I won't deny that.)

But blogging is different. It's a little freer, a little less advertised. It's nice to rant without a judgmental audience.