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8:25 a.m. - 2005-06-17
Words are such dangerous, powerful things. They truly have the power to do almost irrepable damage to someone. Casually spoken, blurted out in anger, whispered in secret, written on paper, whatever form they take, words are so.. lasting. The slightest comment can roll around in your brain for years, resurfacing at the most inopertune moments. Once in high school, choir class, 12th grade, a classmate advised me ever so politely, that 'those striped shorts make your butt look HUGE' Needless to say, I haven't owned a pair of striped shorts in over 12 years. Little words, carelessly spoken, that still have meaning to me over a decade later.
My life has been a little tumultuous lately. I won't go into any details today, I don't feel like talking about it. But I did last night. I called a friend whom I love so dearly, in need of the metaphorical shoulder to cry on. I didn't want advice or judgement, I didn't need empty platitudes to make me feel better. I just needed someone to listen. Her response to my request was, "I don't want to get in the middle of this." Words. Carelessly. Spoken. But damaging none the less. So I sit at my desk, 13 hours later and I cry. I cry and I cry and I cry because I'm weak and can't seem to stop. Was there malice behind that comment? No, I don't think so. But was there love either?
So this morning, tired, rumpled, eyes swollen, I'm standing in the rain spilling coke on my shirt, juggling a purse, keys, umbrella. Dear Chloe bumps past me to open her car door without pausing to assist. I snap, "selfish child, can't you help?" and she cries and cries and cries. From words with no malice, but no love either.



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