I had a dream last night about someone I knew who shall remain unnamed. I woke up from it wondering what had happened to this person, why we don't speak anymore, what went wrong in the relationship and, naturally, what I did wrong to destroy whatever bond we'd shared. I doubt any answers will be forthcoming. Life isn't like that. You can't just walk up to someone you've hurt, ask what the big mistake was and get an affable answer. You'd be reopening old wounds. That'd be even more cruel than the original wound itself, be it intentional or no. Believe it or don't, I'm not the sort of person who intentionally sets out to harm another human being. However, in my clumsy stumbling about from one moment to the next, people do get harmed. People have been hurt by me, and in some cases, grievously hurt. I doubt any of them read this, since putting distance between one's self and a source of pain is not only natural but the smart thing to do, let me say the following: I didn't mean to hurt anyone. I'm sorry that I did. Growing pains should be self-inflicted, not inflicted upon others. That was wrong. It was stupid. It was likely juvenile and intentional or no, they were wounds I had no right to inflict. I doubt this apology makes any difference, but I'm offering it anyway. Not to take the wind out of the emotional sails of what I'm doing here, but this might be part of the reason I like the Hulk. Bruce Banner's a nice guy, but he has something inside of him that lashes out and causes untold destruction to everything around him. He's seen the effects of what happens when he loses control, and it saddens him. I, too, have seen the aftermath of some of my less proud moments, and the knowledge that someone I care about is hurting because of something I did, or didn't do, or didn't do well enough, gives me cause to question my self-worth. They say you can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs. While this is true, it's rare for people to consider the emotional state of the egg. Especially if one doesn't make it into the omelet. You know, you take it out of the carton, something distracts you, you drop it and
wham, egg is busted, you've made a mess and that egg will never fulfill its delicious destiny. It's pretty sad, when you think about it. I know I'm probably wasting my time laying all of this out, and again, I doubt any of the eggs I've broken in the course of my life take the time to read this. I don't blame them. They have better things to do. Still, the fact remains that I do carry a feeling of guilt over these things, and that isn't likely to go away. I'm not trying to paint myself as the victim, since I was the one doing the hurting instead of the one who got hurt. I guess people should just take heart in the fact that karmic justice, in one form or another, does exist. Even if it's just a painful twinge in the offender's lower back.
Blue Ink Alchemy
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