Rituals and Burns

Today I went to Lee’s to buy myself coffee and a sandwich when I’m suddenly reminded that this was our ritual when we told ourselves we needed to get work done, me writing and you studying for school. I’m a creature of habit. Maybe that’s why getting Lee’s makes me happy –because I remember us going together, and it was one of those rare moments things felt OK. We had just finished working out together –we couldn’t afford much, but we afford a breakfast together. I thought at least things would be hopeful if I kept writing. Coffee was my fuel. Thank you for the coffee.

9/8 I burned my hand that I used to strike you. I burned it 6 times, until the pain became unbearable, and I can only imagine your pain was 10x more than my pain when I hurt you. 1, you loved me and for someone you loved to hurt you like so must have been unfathomable. 2, it must have really affected your self-worth. Thinking back, I had terrible self-esteem because I was hurt like so too. I used to think I was a good person, but I was merely a perpetuation of the anger and violence I learned from my parents. I don’t want to excuse myself when I say that. I just understand that that was where it came from. Interestingly, my mom had a similar, Buddhist ritual performed on her arm to cement her faith in the Buddha…  I pressed the light into my flesh and held it there until my skin seared and the fire was smothered. My hand is scarred, and I remember the pain. I want to remember the burning as the heat traveled through my skin and into my flesh. I want to see the scars. I never want to hurt someone I love again.  I’m sorry it took losing you to understand the gravity of my sins.

I hope you’re doing well. I hope you’re sleeping well. And I hope you protect yourself from terrible people like myself. I hope you find a love that won’t hurt you. I want to believe there is a form of love in which you don’t hurt yourself or your partner, but I’ve yet to see and experience anything like so. Anyways, like always, all the best to you.