21 Dec 2013: Wounded

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Sometimes I wonder about the choices I make. Sometimes I forget that I am not alone and my decisions affect more than myself. I forget.

I wonder if I should apologize, or if my apology will be needed at all. Sometimes people tend to draw their own conclusions based simply on others’ actions. They forget that actions do not always translate back to intentions. Oftentimes we do things we come to regret because we were too weak, too jaded, too confused to decide against it.

Most of the time, life deals us a tough hand. We go through rough times and more often than not, we deal with these by ourselves. Alone. And correct me if I’m wrong but we always, always want to deal with the worst of things alone.

We never want to show others the internal struggle, the battle we wage within ourselves. It’s our nature to hide any weakness, because that would spell the difference between life and death. It’s a survival instinct for a wounded animal to only bare its fangs to conceal its terror. It’s our instinct to hide when we are injured, it’s our instinct to lick our own wounds and hope for them to heal.

But because it is instinct, we do not take it upon ourselves to explain to others that we are doing precisely that — hiding because we are wounded.

So the others take it upon themselves to derive their conclusions based on what they can see, what they can observe, and what they can think of. And most of the time, we let them do so. We let them think of the worst about us because we are ashamed to show them our wounds, our scars.

I would rather allow my friends to believe that I abandoned them. I would rather that they come at me, angry and hurt with words as sharp as knives. I would rather they do all these things than expose my momentary weakness to them. My battles are my own because I wage them with myself. They should not be bothered with the struggles I have to live with.

I am not a martyr for deciding on this. I am selfish. I want their friendship but I do not want to let them in.

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