Taken Away

Two Birds On A Wire 062I will be the first to admit that it is in my nature to cling tightly to things of which I have no claim. I will throw out my back to lift heavy hearts in hopes that I can keep that person past their expiration date in my life. I will drink down moments with other people that inspire infinity inside of my chest, dwelling on it long after, allowing it to linger, in hopes that it will be my moment forever.

I have an incredibly hard time letting things go.

I have understood what it is to be left. I know the searing loss of watching people willingly choose to remove me from their life. The echo of heart aches past still haunt me when the rest of the world seems too quiet and my natural inclination to find something wrong goes into overdrive. But there is something even more immensely heart piercing–the moment when things are forcefully taken away.

Conversations as of late have me confessing that I am the sort who does things with 100% effort or 0% effort. Living in the middle land terrifies me. I am suspect of lulls in excitement or drama, because to me it spells out hanging on the cusp of the next tragedy. It isn’t any shock, then, that I would live my life loving people with everything, no matter the sacrifice it ultimately means for me.

I have loved with fierce passion, desire, and determination. I long to fix people that don’t ever realize that they are “broken” in my eyes. I make projects out of people so that in some sick sense I can be regarded as a saint for all of the work I have put into them. But my head gets fuzzy when I realize how pathetic and self-serving that entire process is. I spend time focused on the hunt of people that are “broken” and then overly-invest my time and resources on them to make them into my understanding of their full potential.

It is a disgusting trait that I cling to in order to give myself purpose when I question what mine truly is.

But those people always seem to be taken away. The art of unmemorization then comes into play. Since I invested so much into studying the ways of these people in order to fix them, I discover heart rooms and brain vaults full of information about someone I probably had no business being with in the first place. Those people have to be taken away.

Today I am so unabashedly thankful for the gaping holes that were left when those people were taken away. I am thankful that in those moments the scales were slowly lifted from my eyes. And now I am no longer blind to my desperate attempts at making people love me. I am thankful because that isn’t a desire of my heart any longer. Instead, I am allowing my brokenness to be mended, and welcome broken people and seemingly-put-together people alike into my heart.

And if they leave? I know it is because I was never meant to make someone transient, permanent.

 

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