I have spent so many an hour putting thoughts to words on the absence of sleep, and its toll upon me, and so on and so forth, that I fell prey to the most common of human failings, despite how uncommon my own were in the nature of how mine came to be.
That of allowing my own wounds, to become a weapon to wound another.
I place enormous forethought, given all that transpired in the abyss of me that decades of sleepless nights created, to not levy any hurt upon another. Whether it be the casual passerby, or those for whom my heart beats. Yet, in doing so there is something that takes place that I had never contended for.
How Old wounds, laid low, in protection of others, gave rise to new ones, and they do not pay homage to the past when I did not sleep.
These wounds are fresh, raw and tender, and will flair so painfully with the slightest touch. Often they happen right were an old one lay buried, bringing the past and present together in agonizing fashion, but worse yet, making me wonder when will I hurt in that way again.
Soon that wonder becomes fear, which gives way to threat, and is processed methodically, calculated so I can act with efficient pre-emption, be it counter move, skilled parry, pre-emptive strike.
And in that moment.. I have failed both my intentions, and those that matter. I have hurt them before they have done anything, however sure I am they would.
I have shown no faith in their humanity.
I have shown no foresight into their ability to shield me as I would them.
I have shown no trust in them.
I did nothing more… than attacked the Pain, before it could attack me.
Every time I do it I am the lesser man.
Your hurt belongs to you. If your lucky there will be those in your life whom will bear it with you. Never make them pay for it, and once you have healed, never use them as a shield to keep it from coming back.
Hurt makes us human, turning it into something that can help others makes you better for it.
We have all went to bed hurting.. some sprain limb, broken bone, or bed half empty for the better part of us is not there as they should be..
We awake and for just a moment, all seems as it ought to.. till it strikes home..
Then we remember, that forgotten wound.