when people are more than the means to my end

yesterday i found a new crack in my heart.

i think i already knew it was there, but i was too afraid to check.

but yesterday my fingers wandered just a little too close… and they found where my heart had splintered in yet another place.

and so they prodded deeper, because curiousity will always be my vice.

closure doesn’t always mean what we think it means. 

when they were teaching me trial advocacy, they told me to never ask a question to which i don’t know the answer.

but i asked the unknown anyways.

and i didn’t like the answer given.

i was hurt and angry and i cried ugly, messy tears.

that tiny little crack hurt a lot more than i thought it would. and i realized, it ran far deeper than it should. and it wasn’t a new crack at all, it was old, but it had finally cracked the surface of my cold, icy, numb heart. 

and i was angry at how i had been used.

until i crawled into my bed, weary and broken from just another Monday. and i stopped to think.

you know, written between the lines…

it sure sounded to me like…

that person who hurt me? well, it sounded to me as if they had been hurt, too.

and if they had been hurt

isn’t it my job to heal?

bitterness has never really gotten me anywhere.

i don’t want to see people as the means to my end. let them be people, just like me. filled with pain and insecurity and hope.

and let me be hopeful and healing and overflowing with love. 

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