About That Night

My ego is a fragile thing. Through time, I've become conformed from volunteered comments, remarks and mostly false judgement. It held me firmly to what I should believe and I forgot who I am sincerely. Paralyzed on fifth avenue near thirty second street, someone I regarded as a noble friend became in an instant a darkened stranger. Consumed by his rage, he spoke with callous and spite. My mind grew weak and as my eyes were heavy, the tears streamed down my cheeks, I knew he assumed it was my heart breaking. Instead, it was my soul weeping out loud. At thirty two, i stood not too far from him and felt I was twelve again in front of my stepfather. The once called friend but now a stranger was presently my stepfather. Same words, different form. No regard for my feelings. Allowing his own shortcomings to scold me. My stepfather, with his broken marriage, uncontrolled drinking and daughter growing up faster than he could handle. This stranger had his own inner conflicts. ashamed of his mistakes and too afraid to understand love, perhaps me? I stood there with nothing but my truths and saw no amount of reason or logic would ever get through to him. I hadn't done this with my stepfather. He was able to cut me down with his viscous lies and malice discontent. At twelve, trapped in my bedroom, he would sling high pitched verbal attacks at me. I had asked this stranger and myself, "why?". The lack of control over me had made his worst fears come alive. No control for my stepfather and now the stranger was simply unacceptable to calm. My stepfather that cut me down to shreds with cruel spite was now morphed to this stranger. As his own shortcomings caught up to him, my motionless shell stood as a human punching bag and felt every harmful blow. My ego was hurt and confused but I didn't allow myself to step back and see what was really happening. The many broken promises, outrageous contradictions that had taken some toll on me. Yet, there he stood, purposefully picking each insulting word. It was so quick and unprovoked, I couldn't say what I wanted or needed. As the tears continued, the cuts ached, I reluctantly walked off and washed what I could of the dreadful moment. I dismissed my ego after I left that stranger. People mistaken anger with love. They turn heartbreak to hate. I refuse to do so. If I did hate, it was solely for the intent of justifying my ego. The ego that didn't allow me to enjoy the present. Hate destroys my depleting energy. I asked my questions and without answering, I had felt his hurt turn to utter madness. In my heart, I bid this stranger adieu as I did to the ego that convinced me to be with someone who wasn't ready nor wiling to comprehend the root of his discontent. It's not reflection that created delayed clarity. It was simply not feeling the now. Now, i was no longer trapped in my bedroom with only a plywood between me and the drunken stepfather. Now, I knew this stranger was capable to say what he could to reduce me to tears and feed his ego. Perhaps, only fueled by his insanity, he chose not to stop nor think about anything. only his pain, his suffering, his loss, only his ego. As i dismissed my ego, I was able to see it wasn't he that made me feel awful, I had allowed it. I had convinced myself of his untruths. The important concern is, am I still doing it now?