I've been thinking a lot lately... about how our experiences not only shape us but shape what we see when we look at the world. I used to think we were much more malleable. Maybe we are at the start of our journey, before the loss of innocence derails us.
But somewhere along the line, all the dreams that once flew free are subdued by fear and hate. I've met too many people now, willing to lock themselves into the same pattern that defined their oppression, their loneliness, their pain.
No amount of love or encouragement or kindness is enough to prove that the world could ever be different from what they've known. Maybe because they've learned that even believing in the possibility of better is a weakness that leaves them vulnerable.
All the liars we've known, teach us not to be trusting. All the heartbreak we've endured, assure us it's the inevitable outcome. And the world gets smaller and smaller until there's no one left to count on but yourself.
In the end, you act the part you believe you're playing whether you ever wanted to or not. You can push away a lot of wonderful people, in attempt to spare yourself some scars.
So maybe I'm foolish for always holding my hand out to these people. Letting them do their worst because they are just so damn sure I'll falter like everyone else they've known. I'll never agree that kindness is weakness, but even I have my limits.
Scrape bare the flesh I am, leave me a broken bone. None of it hurts so much as seeing your resolve to hate those who would love you.
I woke up one day and felt myself becoming just as numb, and that's always the moment I walk away.
