Souls

There are over seven billion living, breathing, tenured souls upon this breathing planet. They feel, they live, they all bleed and most certainly, they should all feel. In the span of our lives we might meet a very miniscule amount of those souls. Most will bring a smile, laughter, mistrust or any of the many emotions that’s involved with another human being. We’re alive, but we’re never really living unless we share.

Amongst the few souls that eventfully move within our lives, we search for someone that can truly understand us. We somehow wish for an instinctual connection that may never, ever, be fully realised. We’re jumbled, even when adventurously cable of being the calm with which we seek. It’s a marvel, a veritable mystery, to even begin to believe that one singular individual can truly, honestly, ever fully understand another individual’s life. We’re complex, yet very, very simple. We’re defined with ease, yet behind the mask we can often be the most miss-guided, troubled individuals walking upon the earth.

In all my years of being the person that I’ve become, I’ve tried to understand people, despite being miss-understood upon many an occasion. For a soul to truly be free, to truly find itself, we need freedom within the arms of someone that will never, ever, chastise us for the simple fact that we’re different. Despite the clothes, the cars, the increased eyebrows or the barbarity we can display to fit within society, there’s no escaping that we’re all singular, unique people. We try so hard to hide the fact, but it’s obvious. From the toes upon your feet, to the nose upon your face, we’re the beauty of the people that created us. Life is beauty. It’s a shame that we eventually become crushed by the weight of such a life.

We’re souls that have not yet truly understood that life is fleeting. It is but a second’s breath from failing. We live, we age, we wish we had more time and then, as if a whisper escaped our final understanding, we leave and may never, ever return. The souls that have seen another soul leave this world, as sad as the moment might be, are closer to understanding the frailty of a soul.

Personally, I still seek a soul to sit beside my own. It’s a sad adventure, filled with solitude and loneliness, but maybe that’s the real journey of life. A soul, in order to truly love another, must realise that the weight of the world must be removed before the joy of love can be realistically felt. We torture each other, upon occasions. We speak such slanderous words that are cruel, pathetic and miserable. Not one of us can ever, ever, escape what we are. Each vapid word upon another soul’s ears adds weight.

As mentioned above, there might be seven billion human souls upon this world, but we only realistically require one. You know where I’m heading with this, I hope. I see, each and every single day, people suffering, people hurting within, wishing and hoping that the soul next to them would leave or, even, for a soul to understand theirs. The entire process is mistaken, wrong, miss-aligned and fraught with angst. There is one true soul that requires guidance, love and understanding. It needs to be cared for by the only person that can ever really understand that soul.

You. You and you alone are the only person with the qualifications to understand yourself. You can seek guidance, you could seek solitude or, even, seek answers. Unless your soul is balanced, then there’s no need to involve another. To seek balance from another person is akin to placing your entire well being in the hands of a perfect stranger. If you do not know yourself, then a stranger may never, ever, truly know you. Even after ten or more years, the understanding may still never be known.

To conclude, your soul is yours to own. You could actually call your soul your mind, as that’s where it’s probably stored. Know yourself, heal yourself, take pride in knowing that you’ve emotionally stood upon your own two feet, without the weight of your life being placed upon the shoulders of another. It’s okay to seek solace, but as mere mortals we often take far more than we should. After all, if you wish to be the best version of yourself, find the true soul that matters and take care of it… your soul. It’s the only soul that will truly, always, actually attempt to keep you safe.

Click HERE to listen.

Written 09.08.2021. Catching up (Finally)

It's funny... as this is far more relevant, today (to me), than when it was written. Soul fixing is a GO!

We

Right at this moment, one side of my head feels very, very odd. Yes, that’s my opening statement. Bit odd, but honest and to the point. I’m exploring, finding a frequency, trying to level up my life in a way that’s fruitful and sensible. Many find solace in a television screen, a bottle, promiscuity or substances. Me, I explore or, at least, I try.

Over the last few weeks I’ve read, studied, tried to understand and explored via meditative options. I’ve found nearly all of it sensible, honest, scientifically proven and although I’ve not enjoyed most of it, due to various reasons, I know that it’s a worthwhile endeavour. As above, I don’t hide. Well… not now, at least. I did, but that’s another story.

Over the years a few people have stated that I don’t open up. When (if) I do, you get to see, hear and feel the genuine person underneath the smiles and topics of jest. It is a wonderful moment. It’s rare and, ashamedly, a tragedy of immense proportions for someone like myself to hide the best part away. My emotions. “Not those again!” I hear you proclaim.

Yes. Emotions. I have lost so much due to them. Either too much emotion (early life) or too little (later on). This brings me to my inner child.

 

I have found the loneliest young child lying alone, in an incubator. That new-born was left without caring arms for twelve weeks. That, to a psychiatrist, is a time bomb of unhealed abandonment and trauma. Oh yes. Most certainly.

I have found the quietest young boy that just wanted his voice to be heard, not daring to speak, just in case the arguments started. Again. Over and over. The silence deafening, filling each room with dread and cold quiet. Best to play with my toys on my own.

I have found the smallest little boy screaming at the top of his lungs, asking not to be left alone, in an adult’s hospital ward, not knowing what to do other than to hold up his arms shouting, “Don’t leave me, you don’t love me, please…!” Then, after that moment, every single hospital day was blocked from my conscious memory and even now, I hardly recall anything from that time.

I have found the young adult pushing down his own abandonment and fear, as both parents did what they do, leaving. Both parents. Left. Fair enough. I understood the reasoning and didn’t, seemingly, become affected by it. I was.

I’ve also met a few others but they become a little dark so I can stop at this point.

In my life, I’ve met many, many people. Nearly all of them have suffered at one point in time, as a youngster. Even the smallest thing can leave an imprint upon a person. When we’re young our emotional safety and well being is a delicate balance of love, care and words. Even one word can change the way you perceive situations from that single point in time. It’s no wonder that the world suffers, as each child suffers. Trying to understand the bigger picture, the world around you, from an early age, is largely dependant on the adults and care givers around us. I don’t blame the adults, as it's a never-ending continuation of doing the best they/we can.  We’re not professionals (not that I’d know as the old child I’ve looked after is myself. Oh.)

Today, I met my fully abandoned self. I thought that I could meet each individual moment of my young life and, I have, but today was different. You could call your inner child your emotional stability/intelligence. You could call your inner child the part of you that has been wounded upon many occasions. You could also call your inner child a load of rubbish, but the data and information is there for everyone to see.

I know that I have emotional connectivity issues. Ask me an emotional question and I can develop and view nearly every single scenario. It’s been said many, many times, that I’m the most ‘understanding person’ that x or y knows, but that’s fine, as long as it’s not about me or the people I care about.

I retreat. I have retreated and it has cost me so very, very much. No more.

Today I descended into the back corners of my mind and, through a descriptive, imaginary situation from a professional, I opened the door to the place where all of my discarded emotions, memories and horrible situations go to die. They don’t vanish, unless you deal with them. Sat amongst the rubbish, within this dark horrible space, sat a young child. He was around seven or eight. Ideally, I should have seen a young baby in an incubator, but maybe I’ve dealt with that already.

The emotion was real. I’d hidden away. This child, this person, this very moment, has shown me what I’ve done with my emotional reasoning. ‘I’m worthless’, ‘I’m nothing’, ‘I don’t deserve…’, ‘I’m always alone’ and more. This is why I didn’t and don’t speak when my rational mind screams for me to do so. It’s actually quite a tragic series of life events. The love that I’ve damaged, the emotions I’ve missed, the stability that I’ve denied myself and more.

One could be overly dismissive about all of this and push it aside, but when we’re/you’re alone at night, in an empty bed, if you allow yourself to open up, you know that we all have something missing. Something that can be changed. Or, just continue eating crisps and shouting at the TV, ignoring the soledad (Spanish), solemn child within.

I wish for freedom. I no longer wish to love someone else, as I need and want and wish to love myself. I would, however, like to ‘share’ that love. I want my frequency to vibe with the best part of myself and others/another. I do not wish to be attached, as I would prefer to exist alongside. I have damaged myself so very, very much over the years and the fear of abandonment has silenced my inner voice. This is tragic. It’s unfortunate.

Thankfully, there’s further discovery to follow. There is far more teaching to understand. It’s all an adventure.

‘We’, are making progress. Each of my inner children, or the inner child that has been freed from a prison of my own making, are with me. We, can now develop, grow, understand and more. After all, if you release your inner child, then there’s a lot more work to do. I’m scared, intrigued, hesitant but willing to move forward. I refuse to spend another second trapped within my own prison.

…and no, I’m not going insane. Insanity is doing the exact same thing day in, day out. ‘We’, won’t do that anymore.

P.s. I now have an awful headache.

Thoughts

For most of my life, I’ve tried to do one thing, with that one thing being to heal. To fix. To adapt. To become something better than what I previously believed to be 'just' and 'correct'. This trend started around the age of thirty. I was no longer able or willing to blame others for what was, basically, my own mind doing what it does best. Think.

Eventually, after this, most of that, I reached a place of stability. Utter, clear, beautiful stability with no little voice proclaiming that I was such and such. This or that. The other. It was amazing. Little did I know… .

Over the last month, or so, I’ve realised that I was quite lucky to no longer be clouded by ‘thinking’. It sounds odd but, thinking causes so many issues in one’s life. You have a thought, a lovely, random, solitary thought, to which you apply so much thinking that the one moment in time becomes something else. You twist, turn, squeeze and, eventually, you allow your mind to torture your very emotions. 

I also did not know that our very hearts have something of a brain, all to itself (as well as the gut). Your heart can think, in its own way, as well as certainly feel. This, to me, explains a lot. I have a big heart. It’s absolutely stupid, giving and very, very thick (when it’s engaged, that is).

All at once, your thoughts can completely take over your life. It is… suffocating. It is… debilitating. Rational thoughts become idiotic notions of grandeur. The common, cold, logical sense making way for daydreams and over-consuming emotions. I need to understand. There’s a space within me dedicated to understanding.

Then, from within myself, despite the many, many exploratory sessions of self-help, study, understanding and learning, I realised that I’ve never, ever, actually faced the real issues within myself. It’s startling. It’s madness. It’s actually quite disheartening to know that everything you’ve ever done to become whole, is swept aside within a second. You have further study. You have far more reflection ahead.

It's daunting. It’s heavy. It’s also a little paralysing.

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(*Taken from the book linked below)
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Everything we are, everything we’ve become, stems from our learned behaviours as a child. From being slapped in a store, to being abused, to feeling intense loneliness and abandonment, to the momentary lessons of hugs, holding hands and more. There, I’ve said it. I’m not perfect and I never will be. I have demons, as well as saints, surrounding me.

Your inner child sits deep within the spaces that you never wished or thought to view. How do I confront arguments/situations with the person I love? What is their inner child shouting? I suffer, I regress into myself, hiding, with the adult in the background ‘screaming’ at me to say something. Anything. I’m a rational person. I can connect to my emotions and usually know what to say as I understand (as much as I can).  Yet, once my inner child appears, I’m lost. I’m done. The hurt repeats and I say and do nothing. I’m difficult to reach, at times. I smile, I laugh, I joke and make others feel good whilst, at the same time, wishing that I could just… allow my inner child to hold a hand the way it’s supposed to.

If I hide, a little, the problem might go away! It doesn’t. Without communication nothing is ever resolved. Without expressing our emotional needs and the 'thinking' that has arisen from our ‘thoughts’, there can be no progression.

I now stand upon a platform that’s flat against the ground. The grass underneath, willing the platform to rise, to once again enjoy the growing sunshine. I’ve never wanted to address my current situation, as I realistically never even really knew it existed. I stopped growing. I stopped learning, thinking that I was perfectly okay. I am perfect, we’re all perfect, in our damaged, individual way.

It’s time to tackle, understand and embrace the biggest issue(s) that any of us can face within our lives… the inner child that suffered. It’s one heck of a thing, but in the end, it’ll ensure that I/we/the person that wants to improve, becomes something of wonder. I’m all for fixing. I’m all for growing. I’m not afraid of hardly anything but, right now, I’m genuinely afraid of this. Why? I like the person I am, I’ve enjoyed my company and many, many others have also enjoyed my warm smile and silly words. Either way, I’ll grow, become a more rounded person, able to move forward with whatever life throws towards my path. It takes courage to be vulnerable, but it also takes courage to finally embrace change. 

What will be, will be. In the end, life is an adventure and I do not wish to adventure on my own. It’s time to become all I can be. No more thinking, just glorious, magical, progressive thoughts. Isn’t embracing new ideas, adventures and exploring experiences a good thing?

After all, we’re just one thought and reset away from becoming something brand new. See you on the other side, with new thoughts.

Education is key (buy this book and seek professional assistance, if needed):

*Link: Healing Your Lost Inner Child

Today

There are many lessons upon the life that surrounds us, permeates us, with one of those lessons being about our past events. We spend decades, months, weeks, with the seconds taunting us like the villains from films we view upon a given day. We think about the moments of this, the other, or that instance where we could have said more, done more, or experienced less regret.

These lessons of life, of experience, still evade our deceptive notions of surrender and relief. We believe that we’re over something, having moved a day away from the events, but seldom do we realistically escape our torturous mind’s grasp.

Then there’s the secondary lesson, to never venture too far from the steps ahead of us. We wish to run, to stride forward as if our lives were assured and constant but, as is the case with many future events, nothing is quite as stable as we predict.

We aspire to do more, be more or, even, to escape any brave chances in the hope that normality and safety will keep us warm within our nights. The future is and can always be chaotic. If only we were given an egg timer and the opportunity to see future events. Would we and should we?

Despite the two lessons of life, we often reside within one of the two situations. The past haunts our waking moments, with the future possibly supplying the salvation we desperately wish for. Both, vacant moments of expansive, faded events of possibilities. The two, taunting and gasping at the chance to become something more than vivid, tortuous dreams. To live within either setting can only result in a person wondering if there's more to life.

The third lesson is the lesson of ages. All through my own life I’ve heard the same notion expressed over and over again and, thankfully, when my mind is at rest I ‘live’ the lesson as much as I can. The trouble with knowing a lesson, is obviously practising that lesson. My own faults arise when the silent passenger within my thoughts whispers their taunts. The past does not escape any single person upon this world. What could have been. What would have been. If only. Try as we might, our minds do what they do best. They quiz, they question, they chastise and admonish.

At some point we realise that we’re unfortunately no longer children. Although I hold onto my youthful nature, with comedic timing being somewhat of a skill, there are times that remind me of the mind’s weight upon my shoulders. I have found safe places, the safe places that I wished that we all knew. I do have a sanctuary and, thankfully, I seldom think about the impending future. We must all have a blinking eye set upon what might happen and that, especially, leads to the conclusion.

The very last, as well as first lesson for every single human being, is that we must live within the moment. We may kiss a thousand lips, hold many a hand, but those memories can turn to pain and, upon another day, become thoughts of joy, sorrow, or remorse. I do not wish to be haunted by faded memories. It’s unnecessary. I also do not wish for tomorrow to save me from some type of breath defeating anxiety or hopelessness.

For quite a long time, I’ve tried so very hard to live my life with the notion that this very moment is the only moment that matters. Another truth is that it is. Every moment, this moment, has now become a memory. Each step, every word or thought, changes the future and becomes your memories. This is why I am the person I am. I respect, I love, I cherish and I try to be as good as I can be. Do I fail? Of course, as I'm always learning.

The past traps you, holds you and wishes to never remove its embrace. The future also traps you, into the notion that action can be taken at a later date. Even one thought at this very moment, is a step to achieving a future goal, even if it looks like you’re standing immobile. The decision has, at least, been made for a person to advance. Of course, the danger of the past, is that it supplies fear to the present and incorrect decisions based on fear, can damage each proceeding day or action.

In the end, when everything has been procrastinated, or the impulsive desire met for tomorrow, there truly is only the present moment that counts. Or, if I may be so bold as to state, that there’s only one day that counts and that singular day is… today.

Heartbreaker

You. Just you. That one, the one, that did exactly what you did. It hurt like hell but that’s, as they say, the way loves goes. A supposed victim of my own inner ideals and idiotic meanderings. One would think that I actually liked the twists and turns of the motion of your emotions.

I don’t, I do not. I never will. I’m a kind person, a caring person, with the upsetting aspect of all of this, being that you’re also the same. I never expected the avenue to, literally, be a dead end. When you mess with a heart it hurts, but this, this very thing, seems to have moved my actual soul.

I know that I’m being dramatic, but there’s that yang to your inner ying that often, simply, wishes for more. A connection. A vibe. A presence within another that bonds directly to yourself. The holding of a hand feels right and, upon a given day, it hurts like hell to let go.

Forced, abjured, the feelings simply strewn across the floor like the broken vase of my dreams. It’s okay, it’s to be said, done, abandoned and moved away from. That heartbreaker. You know what you did. You knew how this would make me feel.

You touched, you adored, you held with such force that my feminine mind gave away my very essence. You said that you adored my scent upon your skin. You stated that you had to have me over and over again yet, upon this very second, you’re nowhere to be seen. Another conquest, another moment, a further wounding glance designed to inflate your never-ending desire to be adored.

It’s all so clear. I could never fall for someone that actually, truly, really cared. The faults and infatuations being all so very clear. I’m broken, with the never-ending loop of trying to mend, yet seemingly doomed to repeat the same, tired, repeating process add infinium.  I know that you thought that you cared for me and, upon a certain level, you did. You just had to have what you wanted and what you wanted, was me.

You did things, said things, explored places that the normal type of man wouldn’t even think of. It’s exhausting, it’s deflating, knowing that you’ll soon move onto your next target of awe. Your dark eyes, the way you move simply turns me on to my very core. I ache for you, desire you. Dream of you. But that’s not enough and nothing ever will be.

I’m sat here, thinking, wondering, trying to escape the situation I’ve found myself within. If it was just sex, then you could have just asked. I know that ‘that’ isn’t the way it works, but right now, with what I know, I’d have happily have let you explore every inch of me with my lips knowing exactly what they were to be used for. You broke a piece of me, broke me in half and opened my very body to something new. Then, once you’d had your desired, erotically induced fantasies played out, you left.

I would feel used but, instead, I’m just sat here wanting you all over my body. It’s evaporating my very sense until I don’t know who I am anymore. I’m spiralling, out of control, gasping for your air to free me. I know that you’ll be back, as you’re addicted to flesh. You’re embraced by the very notion of control. You need to be adored by everyone and everything.

I’m going to try and forget you. Everything about you, as you’re just not worth my time. It’s done. Over. Gone and far away. Yet, you’re still here, inside me, lips kissing my neck and arms holding me in place. I just cannot seem to escape what you’ve done to my living memories. I hate you, but I love you, as you’d freed and chained me at the same time. I want to scream, I want to moan, I want you. I need you. You’re just that heartbreaker I was warned about.

Click 'HERE' to Listen

Buried

Daniel continued digging. Each movement caused his lower back irritation but, for once, he was on a mission and would finish no matter the consequence. Again, the shovel struck the exposed earth, moving, digging, ever further into the soil.

Another clump of earth moved from the wet, sodden ground. He’s started digging twenty or so minutes before the rain started, as he cursed his obvious luck and misfortune. He smirked, understanding, realising, that this was typical for his life. He’d give up, throw the spade to the floor and proclaim his dissatisfaction to the heavens above but, for once in his life, he’d accomplish the task come hell or high water. He laughed a little, realising that high water was closer than he’d ideally prefer.

His arms, aching, continued with their given task. Each instruction from his mind, pushing him forward, but in this instance and task his heart was also incredibly invested towards the outcome of his efforts. Daniel’s frustration, as well as mild anxiety, furthered his anguish. He simply wished to find a solution, a path, or a safety net, all the while knowing that he had little choice but to continue.

He’d made decisions in his life, some bad, mostly good, with only the negative aspects remaining to constantly haunt his waking thoughts. Again and again, his misdemeanours continued to taunt him. If he could run, he’d consider such an option, but he knew that he could never, ever, escape himself.

He continued to dig, nearing his objective with each strike and lift of the shovel. He’d explored many options, spoken to a hundred and one people, with this being his last and final option worth considering. He wanted to be cleansed, to escape the person he was, even though he wasn’t a particularly bad person. A shedding of skin. A renewal. An opus of possible regeneration or, even, just a better version of himself.

He’d read self-help books, the power of the moment, understanding the very notion of how a human being should conduct himself within a living society. He was still denied the silence of a quiet mind, a relaxed mind. As his thoughts invaded his attempted calm, another section of dirt vacated the ground and finally, he was ready.

Daniel dropped the spade, as he fell to his knees. He felt ridiculous, but quickly moved away from such notions. He knew that the mind, let alone a person’s body, could often work in mysterious ways and at this point in his life, he’d try anything and everything. He raised his hands, imagining a wooden box, as he opened the imaginary lid. Within, there sat an empty space. Daniel smiled. He was ready, finally ready to move forward.

The rain splattered around him, over him and into the hole in front of Daniel. He lowered the imaginary box. He then closed his eyes, raising from within him such emotion that he immediately started to cry. He couldn’t hold back any further. His eyes opened as his tears joined the hundreds of raindrops around him. Each tear, landed into the invisible box. Each emotion, be they negative, expressive or even destructive, rose within him.

As the overwhelming feelings sat within his heart, his mind and possibly his soul, he raised his hands to the side of his head and then, with as much energy as he could find, he gestured metaphorically by throwing the energy from within him, into the invisible box. The cleansing of a spirit, the freeing of a soul, the demonstrative capacity of a person willing to grow, shown within the seconds of his life.

Each let down, each loss, each crippling word spoken to another, let alone his own demonising moments, released from his very emotive display. He no longer wished to be held captive and captor to his life. He wished for his words to be kind, to hold and to console him. His heart was gentle, his soul but the weak child of innocence, yet the enclosed cage had started to strangle his very life. Gasping for air, tears still falling, he felt the very weight of his world push against his entire body. The vessel of a person could only hold so much sacrifice, so much sacrilege, before a person’s will would break. Daniel knew all of this, he understood and despite having the very world at his hands, it was not enough. The demons, the devils, the mere thought of returning to the young days of being an innocent child scolded him, squandering the chance to just simply be what he could be.

The wounds of his words were, finally, fully exposed. The rain, the moment, the visually encapsulating box in front of him, allowed the expulsion of so very, very much. He could swear that he could feel his actual soul emptying. The conscience of a man, expunged. The heart of a man, sanctified.

The last tear from within appeared from his right eye and, in that moment, he could see it fall as if the very moments of time had neared the slow sacrifice of existence. The imaginary box, now full. The lid, closing as he thanked his very makers for the chance to humble himself in such a way.

With gentle trembling hands, he lifted the invisible vessel. Placing the box into the ground, he gently placed his left and right hands either side of the hole, to slowly drag dirt into the seemingly empty space. Vanquished. Gone. Hidden and taken from him. As his mind cleared, he continued to place the dirt into the hole. Faster and faster, as the smile appeared upon his face. He didn’t care if it worked or not. He wouldn’t even give that fact a second thought as, in the great scheme of things, the pills hadn’t worked, the friends, the thousand conversations as well as the ten affirmations. He would find his own solution, his own sacrifice if needed, as long as he could survive. All he wanted to do was bury his old life, his sacrifices and failures and, hopefully, keep them buried.

Abuse

Upon the surface I know, we all know, that the outwardly facing world is a picture-perfect reflection of the ideal life. My smiles, my laughter, all reflect the amount of love I feel for that person in my life. We hold hands, we giggle, we wander around the world and the onlookers seem to even be mildly jealous. Picture perfect. We’re matched, meant to be and are far, far more.

When I met you, you said all of the words I wished to hear. The trials and tribulations of your life seemingly overcome, resolved, removed and the wishes and kisses soothing my very soul like no other. I fell so very, very hard for you. I couldn’t wait to hold that hand of yours. To hold you. To have and literally throw myself into the situations we managed to find ourselves. We laughed like no other, buzzing and bouncing around like silly fools.

I remember when the phone would beep and the moments my heart would skip. Each message was but the very smile upon my lips. Your words, your curves, all infecting my soul. I should have known. Perfection can sometimes incur a cost. Many people often wear masks to hide so many, many sides, but that’s often to protect themselves. I understand, I also supposedly understood the thoughts upon such survival techniques.

Then, upon one solitary day, something changed. Ambushed. Unknown. Not quite ready for what happened. You changed or, should I say, you changed when your lips touched your secret addiction. You hadn’t faced your demons at all as, instead, you’d simply hid them within a room of dark secrets and cruel debauchery. The very notion that the sweetest, most innocent person you could ever meet, could change into the cruellest, demonising, destructive person, was something I wasn’t prepared for. Under your very skin, lurked someone that I would never, ever, wish to be anywhere near.

The alcohol turned you, switched you into someone that I simply did not know. You would pick, prod, deflect, blame and patronise. Every opinion thrown from my thoughts would be ridiculed. The coward finally rising from within, intending to destroy the unknowing person sat beside you. Eventually, over time, I realised that the very intention of your hidden side was to break me. Subservience is what you desired. To be better, to tower above me, for some godless reason that I never fathomed until later. I came to understand that love was not worth the anxiety of having every single word scrutinised.

I, eventually, was no longer blameless. My own actions faltered as I tried again and again to change the situation. I was wrong, I failed. I started to change and with each new action, I realised that I was the only person that was managing to do just that, change. I was becoming defensive, argumentative and afraid of each new conversation. Manipulation can be a gradual process. Slow, meandering, clever and most certainly, evil.

Upon a day, you stood in front of me, shouting, asking me, telling me, to hurt you. To hit you. That, upon that very second, explained everything to my simple, silly, mortal soul. If upon that very second, I did as requested, my soul would have been lost and the victory won by your possibly unknowingly twisted mind. I would have been chastised, broken, owned and reviled by every single person that you would have told. That was your intention, the breaking of bones would never be the same as owning another.

Upon almost every single level, hurting the person you love, be that pain physical, emotional or even spiritual, should never, ever, enter a person’s mind. Things happen, people grow apart and eventually have affairs, but that’s just the way of a heart that hasn’t yet found what it truly needs or desires. The pain is often not intentional. Abuse is every single meaning of itself. It’s intentional, avoidable and most certainly not to be accepted within any second of our lives. At least I’m now trained to see the expertly hidden signs of such actions. As mentioned, I’m hardly innocent, but at least I’m honest. I’ll never ‘be’ you, even though you could be anyone. I have no pity or answers, only solutions that would never, ever, have been heard.

I’d like to believe that you simply believed that you were right with all of your words but, seeing as the trends upon your life mimicked themselves with each new partner, I’m afraid that my beliefs would never become truth. A person can be crushed. A person can break and fall, with even the smallest of words eventually provoking fear and dread. The child scorned into remaining silent, awaiting the next episode of revulsion and panic. Two people together can achieve so much, but one person upon their own high-minded chariot, can chastise and corrupt even the strongest of characters.

Abuse is not as clear as I thought it was. Abuse is slow, not always physical and most certainly hidden, hidden behind the sweetest smile and most caring words. I’m one of the lucky individuals that has, thankfully, thoughtfully, witnessed and escaped the verbal abuse of another.