Numbing Down of Love

In the past month, I made a deal with myself that I would try to be the better person. Hurtful words will hit me like closed fists and I will not fight back. Some words are said partly because of frustration and partly because they’re tired. Tired of feeling helpless, tired of feeling sick. And though it hurts that things you’ve done before don’t seem to matter, because they decide that today “you are ungrateful,” I will take it in stride. I will ignore the hurtful words, because I will make myself believe that they weren’t really meant to hurt me.

In the past nine years since my father had a stroke, you cannot tell me that I have learned nothing. And today, when I wake up in the morning to cook your breakfast of oatmeal, I will forget that you told me yesterday how I did not care and how you had to beg for me to help you. I will forget the hurtful words because I tell myself that you didn’t mean them. It’s not that I don’t care. I do. I will ignore the hurtful words, because I love you.