I Won’t Take These Words Back

I think you’ve got to ask yourself. “Where does this pain come from?”

I think it’s okay to ask yourself where the hurt all started, and when you figure it out, let’s kick it to the curb.

You’re not afraid to let people see the tidy parts of who you are, but you’re terrified of the unfinished pieces. You keep quiet because you can’t entertain the thought of letting it all spill out. 

Baby, let it all spill out. Let it pour, let it splatter and run down the wood. Try not to go grasping for towels and mops anymore. Can you just let it drip, and gather in the corners? Let it settle into the cracks and crevices. I’m asking you to let it get a little messy.

Live a little, you know? And let other people see you for where you are. They’ll like what they see.

I know because I like what I see in you.

And I’m not going to be afraid to look you in the eye. No, I choose to see you. I’m learning to not be so quick to turn my head at this generational awkwardness of acknowledging another human being. I want to show you that you are worth my gaze, you are enough to make someone look your way. I choose to hold your eyes as long as you’ll let me because you’ve got a lot to offer.

You are worth untangling. You are worth time spent and meals shared. You are worth hearing words that are meant and not just spoken. You are worth being forgiven, even though you’re a master of breaking hearts and bruising dreams. You are worth being heard. I wish you really believed these words. I wish you’d soak them in, even when they are hard to hear. Even when you want to throw them in the trash along with your trust and all the times that people took these kinds of words back. I won’t take these words back.

So, I’m learning how to turn the car around and do the things that scare the heck out of me.

Because you are worth that, though I don’t really know all that much about you. But I know the way you’ve taught yourself to steer clear of the disappointment. I know how you require yourself to always have the upper hand. I know it seems easier to recover from your own failures than it is from those who you fail you.

They tell me you’re the hard nose, the stiff neck, the one who just can’t seem to smile, but I won’t believe it. You’re entirely knit together of hope and heart. I don’t care how much you iron that plaid shirt, I refuse to believe you’re made of stone.

So, stand there and act like you don’t care if you’re noticed. Go on and keep pretending like you’re not worried that nobody seems to be watching. I see the way you wait for them to cross the room and come to you. I see the way your eyes follow the laughter, the way you’re looking for someone to say it…

to say, “you’re enough”.

Well, I’m saying it. Over and over I will shout it from the rooftops if that’s what it takes for you. If it takes me dancing down the highway and making pit stops at every McDonald’s along the way, I’ll keep packing these bags. I’ll come and buy you a cup of coffee and let you wade through what it takes to let another heart love you. You were made for love, for being loved, for learning how to live in it and from it.

It’s not because I’m so brave, but mostly because that’s what this whole living thing is really about. And I think we’ve got to learn to live a little. To stretch ourselves, to do what’s different. I think we’ve got to go places that never seemed exciting and dig in the dirt to find the treasure. Few will go far to find it, but as for me, I love a good adventure. You’re a destination where I’m choosing to stop, a beautiful sight that I’m aching to see. So, let me tell you that you’re quite enough. You’ve got something that makes me want to see what some people seem to have missed.

So this is a letter to you, the most misunderstood one in the room. I’m here to say you’ve met your match. I’m ready to kick these buckets over and have it all spill out. I’m quite certain we can paint a portion of the world with a beautiful mess like you. 

 

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