Aren’t people suppose to come in and out of your life for a purpose?
Some relationships are like cancers. At first, you’re completely unaware of the disease even taking hold of you. So it festers and spreads and wedges itself deep into your core. And by the time you realize its presence, it’s far too late. Already a part of you. Sharing cells and blood vessels and whatever other sustenance; a complete eradication would be agonizing. And maybe even impossible.
Amputations always seemed scarier to me- but then, once you’ve amputated that limb, the healing process begins, doesn’t it?
But cancers come back. Daisy Merrick is 8 years old and her cancer has returned for the third time.
Why can’t it just leave us alone?
And the eradication process itself. The surgery, the therapy. Pain, pain, pain. Is there no end in sight? How can you kill something that’s become a part of you, without dying a little yourself? And at some point how are you even able to differentiate? Is it the cancer that is dying, or am I? Does it even matter?
Let’s say you ‘beat’ cancer. A bit worn and more than a little weary, you stumble towards the road to recovery- piecing back the broken parts, salvaging that broken shell, filling up that emptiness, trying to make yourself whole again. But then, who’s to say it won’t return? And what will stop it when it does?
Sometimes forgiveness feels more like a burden than a blessing. Aren’t some bridges just better burnt? Why leave an open door for a cancerous relationship?
The lies cut so deep, and the betrayal harrowing.
But I’d still forgive you in a second.
Somebody remind me of your crimes. Somebody harden my heart. Somebody recount the wrongs and pour that fuel and light that match for me. Bridges are hard to burn. Cancers even harder to kill.