…In a fight

I just had my first fight.

I feel terrible.

I don’t know how it started but I’ll always remember her voice on the phone sobbing because of the words I said.

Oh wait, now I remember. It started because I’ve never been brave enough to say how I really feel and mean it.

I kept accumulating my thoughts, opinions and complaints. I kept smiling even though inside I was a ticking time bomb. I was so wound up.

But I got tired of it all of a sudden. I hated being the person who couldn’t stand up to my fears. Or say what I thought. I hated who I’d become, a coward. I’d rather sulk and go over and over in my mind how they were wrong and what I really thought of them.

Until today I snapped like a rubber band pulled past it’s elastic limit.

It was a verbal vomit of all the toxins I’ve carried around for so long.

And it felt good. Not to hurt you, never that. But just letting go

But after the explosion I had to gather up the pieces. I felt like such a jerk. Even though I know the import of what I said. And I meant every wound inflicting word not as such but to give you an idea as to how I was feeling.

I didn’t think I’d hurt you. You’ve always had thick skin. But I apologize I must have caught you on an off day.

So I apologized not for what I said but how I said it and I told my truth.

So when I fight and I end up the bad guy, it makes me wish I never kept shut at the beginning.

I fight because I can . I hate it. It ends now.