On Burning Bridges…


We’ve all done things we’re not proud of. Sometimes the past feels like some inescapable monster in a dream where you keep running and running but don’t get anywhere. Thinking about the shameful way we treated others may be enough to make us sick, so we push those thoughts so far down that we pretend to forget them. But they always have a way of sneaking out when we are at our most vulnerable.

Facebook led me down a rabbit hole last night; one I never expected to get swept away in. I found myself staring at a picture of the first person I ever kissed. I had the biggest crush on them at the time. And now, here they were, looking as content as I’d ever seen them in the arms of someone they loved. I was happy to see them together.

I looked through the pictures of their friends, remembering what is was like trying to fit into that group. It was a mold I could never hope to squeeze my odd ways into. It was made of theatrical characters and show biz brilliance and late night pool parties with glow sticks at the bottom. There was always a nervous rush of drama surrounding those dark stars. And an ever-present facade like a conversation that never really goes any deeper than small talk.

It’s odd how we try to fit into certain scenarios. And when we become aware of how bizarre it is, that only makes it more strange. I remembered how it felt to sit on their porch on late summer nights, smoking a bowl and watching a spider weave its webs and trying so hard to quiet the jittering heart that always felt a little uncomfortable around them. I wondered how I got there. A sequence of life choices led me there, and it was so strange that I will never be there again. I will never again walk up the narrow stairs to their bedroom, or drive home with a twisted knot of nerves and confusion in my stomach.

Things ended poorly between us. I blocked them across all social media in the name of “setting my boundaries”. I haven’t talked to them since. I just wanted to forget my broken heart. I tried so hard to outrun those memories, but if I could, I would tell them I’m sorry. Sorry for trying to push myself into their world, and even more sorry for cracking the edges when I left. I would apologize, but it would mean nothing. The ones we’ve left in awkward turmoil don’t remember us. Except maybe on bad nights when they are at their most vulnerable.

I would like to say something positive comes of it in the end, but in this instance, I can offer no words of redemption. Sometimes bad things happen. Sometimes we leave people who love us, and sometimes we break hearts. Sometimes we embarrass ourselves and are made fools of by love.

But guess what…

Love makes fools of everyone. No one makes it out unscathed.

We all just have to learn to live with our scars.

I’m worried that there are people out there that think I hate them. It’s not true. I don’t hate anyone. The only wish I have for them is healing. I wish everyone I have ever met finds the things and people that make them truly happy, just like my first kiss looked in that picture. Purely content.

And if I ever hurt anyone, please know that I am sorry. Sometimes we just have to burn the bridges and walk away.

For similar posts, check out:

Nothing Is Okay
On Moving On…
10 Ways To Move On After A Difficult Breakup
The First Rejection Hurts The Worst
Forgive Yourself

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Take care,

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