I can be good with words Like hands reaching out before help was asked for
I learned early how to thank people properly How to name the good they forgot to see in themselves Friends. Helpers. Quiet do gooders. I could turn a moment toward light By choosing where to look
If a car hit me I would think Better to be the one struck Than the one carrying the weight of striking It was not denial It was mercy practiced inward
I left voice notes warm enough to keep Little notes tucked where smiles could be found later I looked people in the eyes Slowly As if to say I see you. You count. You matter to me.
But words are tools And tools cut both ways
When I was hurting I knew exactly what to say To build a story where pain stayed forever I could narrate my own despair Until it sounded inevitable Convincing Complete
In breakups I said things that could not be unheard Sharp sentences Thrown once Never coming back
Text messages were the worst No breath. No eyes. No pause. Just speed And the illusion of certainty
I am learning slowly To hold my tongue To check the cost before I speak
Eye contact helps I should not be able to look away if my words are impacting another If it is a phone call where I might say something stupid I ought to look in the mirror Saying the words slower Trying only to utter the ones I could live beside
This is not a solution It is a hand on the brake An intention to grow To reflect When I am hurting
And if I must hurt Take all those words that might sting another And let me feel that hurt