I found this on a piece of paper folded and tucked in the back of a drawer of photos, cards and keepsakes. I forgot I'd written it, but it can have a home here.
She was waiting with anticipation, with hope in her mind and dreams in her heart, for something that never fully developed.
She tolerated unimaginable heartache, forgiving time and again, believing in the goodness that she knew all human beings were capable of possessing. She never would understand how anyone can be so hurtful.
For as impatient as she has always been by nature, she endured steadily, pushed forward, and grasped at straws of hopeful possibilities that proved to only be hopeless.
She felt hollow and lost, like a wanderer of blind faith, but she smiled through any tears of frustration and confusion, because good was always said to outweigh the bad.
Goodness and happiness triumph together in the end. That's how every good story is written but she guessed that if anything is as realistic as real can get, there would be bumps to trip over. Any experience is created and necessary for growth, as a perfectly placed stepping stone to get from one place and time to another, regardless of how tangled and twisted with weeds the path becomes. Right?
She was a soft heart.
She was forgiving.
Some say she was a pushover and others say she was just simply kind. She was always confused and never really knew which of those two she really was. She was a lover. For anyone who was close to her, she'd do anything. Everyone knew that. Someone needed an ear? She listened. Someone needed to laugh? She giggled with them. Someone needed to cry? She'd cry too. She was empathetic. Sometimes it was burdensome because the weight was so heavy to bear but more than anything, it was a gift she always felt blessed to share. What others felt, she felt too, and she was a helper. Anyone in need knew she would be there. Always.
Some appreciated that quality about her because it was rare. Others took advantage of it intentionally or not, and it left wounds that would always sting. Those wounds became scars.
What was happening to her?
Why was she waiting on empty, broken promises?
Why was she forgiving lies, betrayal and shadiness? Why was she giving second and third and even fifth chances to anyone who left wounds that scarred or even just stung a little?
Who was worth any of that?
Why was she tripping over bumps instead of just stepping over them and stomping right on those weeds instead of trying to push and see her way through them? Who was she anymore?
She had to get back to the basics. She's the soft heart, the forgiver, and she's kind. She's the listening ear, the laugher and the crier. She's empathetic and she's a lover but she's smart because through it all, she's a fighter...and when she does toss the white flag and decide to fight, all is fair.