You are a character on a page. The protagonist in a story that needs to be told. You aren’t me, because this story did not happen to me. If it just happened to you, then I don’t have to deal with it. Don’t have to handle it. Don’t have to speak it.
I feel for you. What, exactly, I’m not sure. But I do feel. I let you take the reins, be the narrator, tell the story. I let you beat up on yourself. I let you get hurt. I let you have your small victories. But I keep you there, on the page. Because it’s better that you’re there.
If you live the story, if you are the one who powers through it and does all the surviving, then I don’t have to. I don’t have to admit that the events of your story are my story, and therefore I don’t have to deal with them. If I leave them with you, in a file on a computer, in a box, at the printer, then they aren’t with me. They aren’t mine. I don’t have to accept them.
There’s no rhyme or reason for what happened to you. No band-aid or magic spell that will make it fade into the nether. It is senseless and horrid and awful, and nothing erases that. I cannot make what happened to you better, or change it in any way. I cannot take it back. No one can. But slowly I’m figuring out that it’s better if we’re the same. If I admit that you are me and I am you. If I speak your words, because you never will—and if you never tell your story, if you never leave the page, then it’s all for nothing.
Please don’t let it be all for nothing.
This cannot all be for nothing.
I speak.This is how we give purpose to the purposeless, meaning to the meaningless, hope to a situation that is utterly hopeless. When I accept you, when I let you back in, when I speak your story, my story, I am slowly making it a positive thing. I am using what happened, by my own choice, to maybe make a difference to someone else. I am turning something horrible into something beautiful by making it something I survived, not something I ran away from. Not something I hid behind. Not something I left with you. I am accepting you, and I am finding purpose.
I could not do this without you.