It's Hard Being a Human

She was a runner. Sometimes on emotion, sometimes on logic, but ever the runner. Even she didn’t know if she was running from herself or running from other things. Shadows?  Love? For protection? Maybe she wasn’t running from anything. Perhaps she was running to something. Searching. Looking. Maybe both. She just didn’t know. How could she expect anyone else to know? 

Then she ran into you. Maybe by chance, maybe with intent. Nevertheless, she ran right into you. And you ran into her. And it was great. Cause for a little while, everyone’s trauma was forgotten.  You both thought it was healed. But it wasn’t. It was hiding. Lurking in the background.  Your trauma unrecognized, hers covered up. You both found something different in each other than you had ever felt before. 

Everyone hurt her. Even the perceived was real to her. Perception is one’s own reality. Who were you to tell her otherwise? Who was anyone to tell her otherwise? Trauma comes in all shapes and sizes. Everyone feels differently and there were times when you tried to put her feelings in a box.   You tried to put them in a box, put a pretty little bow on it, and deliver it to her in the form of a package.  And when she unwrapped it… when she unwrapped it and tears started to flow and rage started to seep, you were confused. Genuinely confused. It may have appeared as gaslighting; it may have appeared as manipulation, fun, games… but it wasn’t. It was a lack of understanding. No, it was lacking even trying to understand.  It was you being so focused on your own inner demons that you couldn’t begin to acknowledge that someone else had their own. You appeared self-centered. And it doesn’t matter if you really were. It matters that you appeared to be, because remember now, perception is reality.  

And boy, did she try to love. She tried to love hard. No. She did love hard. As hard as she could. But you wouldn’t let her. You thought you did. But you didn’t. Whether you felt undeserving of love, or whether you were selfish. Either way, you didn’t let her. Did you not see it? Or did you not receive it? Either way, it felt like a rejection.  

She was alone. Lonely. Fighting her battles. Losing her wars. You ignored it. You pushed your own back, so it appeared to her that you thought she should too. Maybe you didn’t realize how hard she was fighting. You didn’t see that at some point, she quit fighting.  And you were in denial. You didn’t see the perfect storm that was forming. 

Until you did. But then it was too late. Because remember, she was a runner. Physically, emotionally, it doesn’t matter. She was a runner. And you knew. So, you chased. You chased too little too late, so she continued to run. And that chasing felt like rejection. And that rejection hurt. She handed you on a silver platter what you had handed to her all those years. And it was then and only then that you realized what she felt. Not from lack of previous effort, but lack of previous experience.  You chased more. You chased to prove you could keep up, do better, and was better. You put every effort in. Only this time, she ran faster. 

And now you both have stopped. Stopped running. Stopped chasing. Just stopped.  And what could have been, what was, just isn’t. So, now what?  

She will probably run again. She is a runner. Sometimes on emotion, sometimes on logic, but ever the runner.