Unravellin' the Riddle of it.

Do the difficult thing.

Not the easy thing.

The easy thing will let you live but the difficult thing will kill you.

Find where the difficult thing hides, in its dark, difficult cave.

Then take your knife, and stab it, in its stupid, difficult heart.

Now paint your face in difficult blood.

Walk out into the light and show the world what damage you have done.

Let them fear you.

Something happened when I first met you and your big smile, arms wide open to me. It felt like running into an old friend, and then we sat down, to fill each other in on a life time, over sushi. You were special, in that what burns in me, recognized the fire in you. I promise to stoke ours always, even when it’s down pouring rain, and especially on the days my stubbornness or pride tell me not to. I promise to be present with you and for you. To listen with an open heart and to speak it’s truth to you always. I promise to always try for you. To learn from you, and hopefully gain the qualities I so admire about you along the way. Even in the worst circumstances you’re always trying to lift me up. Lift everyone up. For you there is truly no bad. You are stead fast and your intentions always honorable, and clear. You always say I have the most beautiful soul, but I think the light in you can be humbling. People say “you’ll just know when you know” but, like anyone else, I had no idea what that meant, a true partner and complimentary counter part, until I fell in love with you. There is no greater honor than you choosing me to be your wife. There is nothing more comforting than knowing I get to fall asleep in your arms every night. And nothing more joyful than getting to wake up to your face every morning. I couldn’t be more excited for our journey, littered with bumps and lofty dreams, a life lived with our eyes and hearts wide open, to all the possibilities before us. Knowing it is only enriched by getting to share this life with one another.

Whatever I can, whenever I can, however I can. I don't know what else there is really?

Instead of slamming them.

I used to be able to slam doors with the best of them. I would tell you off and the slam would be the echoing exclamation point.

And not just physically, but also emotionally and mentally-figuratively in every sense.

It wasn’t until I started to see my slamming for what it was, that I could begin to understand there is no power or strength in merely reacting. That’s not using your head. That’s sitting on the sidelines.

I kill them with kindness these days, smile knowingly at their ugly insides. Then I slowly make my way to the door and drift out, leaving no trace. Knowing this is no longer a good space for me and that is OK. I know they will never understand how who they are is so hurtful to those around them. Even if I screamed it at them, with hot tears streaming down my face. The slams were always for myself in the end. I couldn’t do it otherwise, seperate and see things as they were. It would just become about them, and it being my job to show them who they are, from this side. First, it was never my job ok? And cetainly none of my gd business either. But these are cat and mouse games we play uknowingly with ourselves. We crouch things within other things and call it something different. It’s called coping. It’s called making the best of something. And I am here to tell you, it steals some of your soul.

I wish I could have seen my slams for what they were then, cries for help, or change, or some courage.