I didn’t say “I love you”. Back. I had drifted somewhere else. I wasn’t even sure I heard the words. But I felt them. I felt them being thrown at me and it didn’t feel like love. It felt aggressive & forced. Sharp. Like little darts trying to hit a target. Trying to pierce a wall.

I just sat and watched the darts bounce off. Felt myself cowering back. Like a wounded animal trying to protect it’s broken leg. I’m not fully healed from the last interaction.

I’ve had so many Word Darts I’ve had to pull out of my heart. It’s still bleeding.

I am ashamed that I allowed the Darts to continue to flow in my direction. I had thought that I had changed. Had learned to protect myself.

But I had left the door wide open for you. I put a brick in front of it so it wouldn’t close. I wanted your love. I expected your love. I dodged the Darts coming through the door and grabbed onto the ones without the sharp tips. Thinking. I’ll take these. It’s enough.

But it wasn’t. All those broken Darts weren’t enough. The sharp ones still made their target. The wounds wept and buried the soft tipped ones in the blood.

So the door closed. It had to. I warned you. I warned everyone. I wouldn’t have control over it when it happened. The other one inside me, would do it for me. She has always done it for me when I couldn’t. But she’s stronger. Stubborn. Once she comes out to help, there’s no opening the door again. She closes it and then goes back to sleep and rests. Until next time.

It’s almost invisible. This door. I can still see you and I have this weird empathy for your plight. For your inability to understand what’s blocking all your Darts. But I can’t open that door. It’s not mine to open.

The door gives me time to lick my wounds. To find myself again. My direction. My self love.

It helps me to remember what Path I was on before I let you and your eternal unhappiness in.

I am deeply sorry I couldn’t make you stop throwing Darts. It just wasn’t mine to do.