A little free writing....

"There are two sides to us, aren't there. You come into a situation, and you could respond in over a million ways, but really we usually have only two choices. One decision."

She stood staring out the window and I stood staring at her. Why did she have to make things so much harder on herself. My heart broke for her, but her back was stiff.

"I know what the right answer is, but I don't want to do it. And you can't make me."

Shaking my head ever so slightly I told her I understood. It was her decision, no matter how many choices she thought she had. She slowly turned to face me. Her chin slightly tilted up, but I wasn't sure if it was stubbornness or my height which required such a move.

"You have no idea the fight I fight constantly. What I want to do is run from this spot screaming and explode. What I want to do is let everyone know exactly how they made me feel and how much hurt they have caused. What I want to do is hate everyone for always. Because really, that's what I want to do.

"But it's not what I will do.

"The other side of me wants to pretend nothing happened, just wipe it away. The other part of me wants to smile pretty and make sure everyone is okay. The other part of me wants to drink lemonade and paint my fingernails and pretend all is right and good and perfect."

The tear had no chance at making it past her eyelashes as she furiously wiped at it. She was so angry and hurt, and I didn't feel as if I had any answers for her. Everything seemed so pat, and dry, and empty. But I took her hand and we sat down on the stairs.

"I'm just so tired. So incredibly tired."

I knew the feeling. I understood her heart. And yet this was something she had to walk out herself. All I could do was hold her hand along the way.

{The Right to Write by Julia Cameron:: "Initiation Tool" motivation.)


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