We Hurt Each Other

I despise making decisions, particularly if I'm asked to make one by someone else. Such is the conundrum I am in now.

I have hurt someone, and they have hurt me. I am not sure who's guilty of the greater crime, and I don't guess it much matters anymore. I just hate how we hurt each other. And while I want to eat my angry words, I can't deny their need to be said. I only wish I wasn't given the opportunity to say them.

Funny how vindication works. How many times have we longed for, ached for the opportunity to say how we really feel to someone who's hurt us? Yet, we often don't get that chance. That person could care less what you have to say or how you feel.

Yet, when we get it, and we finally spew out the venom inside of us, we're left feeling less human somehow.

Vindication only works when you are fully prepared to not give a shit what the other person thinks of what you told them. Which pretty much leaves us not wanting to spew to begin with.

I still care. They still care. That's why we hurt each other.