So “Hurt” That The Song Doesn’t Matter

Family has a way of messing with your mind in ways that aren’t endearing.  There are times when you know that no apology can rectify a rift.  When the guilt-trip keeps giving like a terrible gift.  You feel that you’ve blamed yourself a million times for choices that others made for you.  Dark places that you’d like to leave behind.  I think that it’s time.  No one should have to be made to feel like they are the ones that are broken.

Family is the worst.

So this one goes out to those who didn’t call on Thanksgiving…who didn’t send a Christmas greeting…who didn’t say I’m sorry themselves and let a song say it for them.  Life goes on changing and sometimes it’s better to leave those foul pieces behind.  Who needs to continue suffering and feeling angry and bitter and bad?  Why couldn’t it all just be milk and cookies?  Why couldn’t every passing year mean that everyone was invited to the feast?

Like the words to the song say, “I’m sorry for blaming you / For everything I just couldn’t do / And I’ve hurt myself by hurting you.”  So congrats.  You’ve done your job hurting me over and over and over again.  Now it’s your turn to see what it feels like.



About Mema

I've been at this blogging thing since 2005, but I don't consider myself a veteran AT ALL. My posts are mostly well-meaning, fun anecdotes with the occasional random thought and a dash of humor for good measure. So sit back, relax, and stay awhile. And if you decide to browse elsewhere, just're missing out on an opportunity to meet (arguably) THE GREATEST PERSON THAT EVER LIVED. Overstated? Well, why not stick around to find out? Your call, tough guy. Or, gal. Or, martian.
This entry was posted in Chestnuts Roasting On An Open Fire, Let's Just Invite The Family, Look Into My Crystal Ball, These Dreams Go On When I Close My Eyes. Bookmark the permalink.

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