Ali stayed up late, tears dried on her cheeks, sitting cross-legged in her underwear on her bed. The room was dark except from the glow of her empty computer screen, slowly filling with words that meant something. Words the held meaning, cathartic power, and sprinkled with a kind of meanness that can only be accomplished through language. Ali didn’t care. She was mad, hurt, and punching herself for somehow getting herself in this position again. She typed:
To answer your original question, (“What do you think of us?”) I think that we have a lot of things that are right between us, and a lot of things that are wrong.
I guess that’s what I’ve always thought. I wish I could pull down my walls more, but I’m scared they’ll be injured as they were tonight. Within the last year, you’ve attacked deep personal things (my relationship with my brother, my character, my “little girl inside,” my ability to love myself, and my maturity). These aren’t light issues, and thus I have built walls around all these things to protect some of my deepest self-workings.
You say a relationship is two people working towards a common goal? I agree…
In my mind, an ideal partner helps you grow, doesn’t try to knock you down. An ideal partner holds your hand when your sad, and doesn’t walk 20 paces ahead. An ideal partner notices the sacrifices and actions made in a day as thoughts of love and kindness and doesn’t write them off just because they aren’t the precisely right measure or tactic.
What do I think of “us?” Frankly, I had wanted to wait and see. To lead with my heart, and allow my mind to follow. I wanted to give into touch, and emotion, and learning and growing without scrutiny or judgment to allow walls to decompose and new foundation to set.
In hindsight I shouldn’t have tried to answer your question right away. I should have known I was being t-ed up to be knocked down. Baited. You obviously wanted to get something off your chest, and you did. And my dear, I’ve heard you. I’m proud; I’m not doing enough; I’m not showing you in the right ways that I love you; My actions don’t matter; I’m too defensive. These things I can accept, and “learn from,” as you said.
But you also insulted my friendships. And this I will not accept. I will not accept your moral misjudgment of my closest relationships as burden or your decree that they are built on falsities. I will not accept your attack on yet another deep part of my spirit. I will not grant you the right to harm the relationships I’ve spent years investing in, relying on, fighting for, loving, and committing to.
There are lines. This was one. It’s been crossed.
