Who am I to You?

January

“You’re impulsive.”

Two words that probably meant nothing to you when they rolled off of your tongue. Two words that I still think about months later. Two words that have made a decisive person fear decisions.

“You’re impulsive.”
I know.

I never admit to anything having power over me except the good Lord himself, but if I said that I was not impacted by this still I would be lying. I’ve already done enough of that, though. Especially to you.

“You’re impulsive.”
I know.

I have been hurt, and I have hurt, but I have never hurt someone the way I did you. With my hands stained red I look up at the mirror and see myself. I am the monster.

“You’re impulsive.”
I know.

I can’t move on from it. I can’t move on from you. Every sliver of moment I get to myself I close my eyes and you sneak your way into my mind. Invading my space. I see your face and every one of the few sweet memories we had wash over me like a gentle wave, the details in each bubble. Then your mouth opens. The inside of me contorts and twists upon itself. Words fly out and the gentle wave that once blanketed me suffocates me.

“You’re impulsive.”
I know.

Rivers flowing from my eyes. The salt on my tongue as I open my mouth to inhale. An exhaled apology. Is it enough? My vulnerability. My hopefulness. Is it enough? You take in every piece of me as you sit across the room. I am not a patient person, but this time I was. For you I was. Is it enough? I am met with two words that still have a home in my mind.

“You’re impulsive.”
I know.

April

Months have passed and the words still ring in my ears with every decision I make. The difference from then and now, though, is now I know I am defined by greater things. The difference from then and now is now I do not waste my days away thinking of you. The difference from then and now is now I have moved on. The difference from then and now is now I have found better things. Brighter things. Things that do not involve you.

“You’re impulsive.”

Maybe I am, but those words coming from you mean nothing to me now.

From Death to Life

While closing a chapter of my life I believed to be extravagant I realized I was too busy looking at the ground rather than in front of me, or even up above me. When I lifted my head I saw before me thousands of lights glistening.

They were warm. They were soft. They were kind.

With my hands outstretched I was immediately enveloped by them. Those lights, whispering with dove-like voices, poured splendid words of comfort into my ears. Those lights, the ones sent from God himself, mended internal wounds whose existence I was unaware of. The copious little lights, shining with nothing but compassion, showered me with an overwhelming sense of revelation.

They looked past the person I once was. They took in my brokenness and loved me anyway, disregarding what I have done before.  My dreariness was replaced with a radiant tidal wave of newfound love and respect for myself. My old skin was shed. My lungs stung with every inhale of fresh breath I took. My head was no longer bound to looking beneath me.

I am renewed. I am clean. I am alive.