silence does it, too

I was told several times before that words can kill. They could cut like a knife- the one with crooked or pointed edges. They could crash a heart ten million times until the soul becomes a glint of mist, almost inexistent.

They could not be taken away. When they are released, they become parts of the whole. They are embedded right into the conscience of the proponent, and stuck into the deepest core of the recipient.

I am accepting the foregoing ideas without any reservation. In my existence, I have proven that they are real. Or at least, they were to me. I got involved in situations where I was the one who uttered irretrievable words. My tongue cursed. And I made amends. There were times when I voluntarily denied my indiscretions. But still, I have been guilt-stricken. (So many people fail to recognize that when you hurt someone, you are hurt, too).

I became a recipient. I’ve met people who have been careless with their words. Some people would say, “You are hurt because it’s the truth.” Crap. Truth hurts. But falsities undeniably hurt, too! I would concoct a big lie if I would say that I’m not affected when people say false things about me. Maybe it isn’t “hurting” per se. But it brings disappointments or maybe a pinch in the heart.

Recently though, I realized that I hurt some people with my silence. And I’d been BADLY & REPEATEDLY hurt with damn and crappy incidents of silence. (Whoa! Just to describe. J Not from the heart).

But there was this concrete episode of silence that bugged me for a time. I’ve wondered for so long if that person was mad at me, or maybe scared, or maybe evasive. I’ve wondered far too long why that person was so silent to the point of almost considering me a piece of thin air when we would see each other. And it hurt me. It struck my heart. There were no words. Not one. No explanations.

True enough, silence does it, too.