The Weight of Words

The weight of the words that I chose months ago still sits on my soul like an anvil. I know they were not intended to cause harm, but shared through another source, that’s exactly what they did. My words hurt. My words destroyed someone else’s spirit for a while. My words ruined someone’s opinion of me.

Carrying the burden of knowing that I caused harm scarred me. I’m no longer angry with the person who manipulated my words to make themself look good; no, they have their own issues to face, destroying me in someone else’s eyes was selfish, and cruel, but sadly, their motive is clear. I am still angry with myself. I’m angry that I allowed myself to speak negatively about someone I care about, mostly, I’m angry that I felt safe doing so with someone who clearly showed no respect for the person we were discussing.

Their motives were clear: separate me from the other person and create negative connections, rather than supporting a mutual friendship. I saw it coming, but still fell into the trap. I was weak. I regret allowing myself the liberty to speak truths, however negative, to someone whose main focus was nefarious to begin with. The problem is that I trusted too quickly, and too deeply. Now, I’m left hurt by one, and hated by the other. Triangular friendships suck.

I keep hamster wheeling the situation. Deep down, I know I wasn’t necessarily wrong for sharing what I did; don’t we all shit-talk at some point in our lives? Aren’t we all the victim and the criminal in some form of gossip, or secret keeping/breaking? That doesn’t make it right though. I apologized profoundly, but it’s not enough. My words await dissection, although I strongly suspect my victim has angrily moved on past our friendship; too hurt by my words to actually listen to my side. Does my side even matter? Probably not. I didn’t speak lies. I spoke truths, but they didn’t need to be said, at least not the way they were, and to whom they were shared.

I wonder if they are playing waiting games with me? Am I supposed to reach out in an olive branch of peace, then probably shot down in a furry of bullet strong words? Maybe? However, I don’t want to experience that. I don’t want to be brought to trial by someone who is no less guilty than I am. I don’t want to be brought to trial by someone who has probably decided the meaning, and maliciousness of my words without having given me a moment to speak my truth. I do however want to try to make things right…deep down though, I strongly suspect they never will be again and that this is something that needs to be walked away from.

That weighs on me. The weight of walking away without closure, which in many ways is closure itself…The thought that friendships can be disposable without effort to mend even chasmic issues hurts. I guess I’ll have to explore methods of effort to recreate a bond knowing that trust was broken, and may never be completely earned again…

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