MC's Whispers

Whispering Silences

Archive for the tag “hurt”

The image of hurt

©Jean L. Hays

“What would you like to talk about today?” The therapist took his notebook and a pen and sunk himself into the purple velvet chair opposite.

“Pain,” he replied immediately.

The therapist looked straight at him. Sorrow was reflecting out of his patient’s eyes. You could see he was hurt, there was something not right inside him. Disappointment that had become sadness, anger that had converted into bitterness; it was all evident in his posture and expression.

“Show me what you think it looks like,” he said, proposing a few photographs.

The patient pointed to one of a barren, anhydrous land.

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

The world and a star

https://www.dhresource.com/0x0/f2/albu/g4/M01/B1/40/rBVaEVb_gaWAKHKHAADUsZQWqqQ077.jpgThe footsteps in the snow were still there when he woke. It was the last thing she left him when she slammed the door the night before.

She was tired of fighting. She was tired of the sudden mood swings. She was exhausted that every time everything seemed almost perfect, something – the tiniest glitch – would come along to ruin it all.

And it was usually an action incited by another person.

With Harry’s consent.

Of course.

Because Bertha knew well that if he had not wanted it to happen, he could simply say no. He could set his limits. He could actually show his girlfriend that he respected her. That he heard her when she told him repeatedly that she was bothered by certain behaviour. That he was loyal to her alone. Things, that if were the other way round, Harry would not have reacted so calmly or tolerate it all.

Bertha tried to be the bigger person.

But sometimes, even the strongest people break too.

Because all a person truly wants, is the certainty that the person they love will choose them over everyone else, under any circumstance.

She gave him a choice.  She shouldn’t have had to.

But he did not choose her.

She threw away the balloons and the present she was to give him during the surprise party she had organised for him the next day.

It didn’t matter now.

He had not chosen her.

He had placed everything else above what she thought was something that would last through hail and storm.

She would have given him the world. But he was too stubborn to even give her a star.

 

When you love a woman
You tell her that she’s really wanted
When you love a woman you tell her that she’s the one…”
                                                   (Have you ever really loved a woman – Bryan Adams)

 

Also part of Daily Prompt: Loyal

That indecisive moment

Continuity-KeypadCallie was standing in the room in silence, phone in hand. Her mind was a movie theater, replaying all the moments she had spent with him over the past four years. She remembered everything so vividly, it was as if she could see it all projected right in front of her. Every emotion felt, the ups and downs, the thrill, the excitement, the sensations in all their glory. But also the heartbreak, the fights, the arguments, the sorrow. She could feel it deep into her marrow. Now she was standing there pondering what to do.

She missed him. She missed the life they had. She missed sharing her joy, her success, her anguish, her pain with someone who understood simply by looking into her eyes. She had gotten so used to him being the one to talk to about everything that now she felt she was returning to a house of silence, like a protagonist in a silent film.

Her fingers dialed his number mechanically. Some things are so imprinted in your heart and mind that even if you try to forget you can’t. Like phone numbers of loved ones. (Yet your pin number you keep forgetting.)

All she had to do was press the little green symbol that would dial.

But she froze.

She wanted to call and tell him how much she missed him. How she longed for him every day. How she yearned for their conversations like a trapped mouse yearns for cheese. How she ached to feel loved again, to feel an array of emotions flood her system and make her happy and not simply content. How she craved for an exchange that was more real than any online interaction could ever be.

Nothing was the same now. It is inevitable for people to move on in their careers, in their lives. To strive for more. To engage in new things. To embark on new adventures. But it is also a human weakness and a simultaneous strength for us to desire to share everything with a partner. And that perhaps is the thing we long for the most.

Her finger lowered onto the button.

But what if? What if he didn’t want to talk to her? What if he had already moved on? To a new job, to a new life, to new interests? The ache was unbearable. The negative what ifs of her mind soon suppressed and quashed any positive hope her heart had created.

Her finger pressed cancel instead.

And nothing changed back.

It’s only words

teddy bear covering eyesAs a child I used to love watching Duck Tales and Gummi Bears. You can really learn a lot from such programmes. I remember one thing in particular that I learnt from the latter – the phrase “sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me”. I tried to go by it. Because in essence, words are just that, right? They shouldn’t affect you so much.

Unfortunately, though, they do.

Words do penetrate your skin deeper than you may think. They affect you to the extent that you sit and think and rethink and replay conversations in your head, trying to figure out where it was that things went wrong.

The main problem with words, is that you can never take them back. Once out there, they’re out. And it hurts.

It hurts when loved ones tell you things they shouldn’t even think of, let alone say. When you are called names you fear. When you realize that what said in a moment of anger is what people truly think. And it ain’t good.

Words do hurt. They might not break your bones, but sometimes they leave a scar that is much harder to heal, for the wound is deeper than any flesh injury could ever be.

Plane-hoppers are like leafhoppers without a leave

PRAGUE_SPAN-articleLargeDo you ever wish you could just get up and leave to escape reality? Just board a plane and fly out. Wherever that may take you. And from then fly off to the next destination, however random that may be.

Jennifer was a plane-hopper.
She would do just that. Get on a plane and leave.

It takes courage to make such radical decisions and carry them out. But Jennifer had always done so. Whenever her heart was in pieces because of a nasty break-up, or things didn’t quite turn out the way she expected she would just take a plane and fly out. To a destination she would pick by chance and then let fate guide her.

Contrary to whatever television series may depict though, Jennifer used these escapes to clear her head. To think her life through and understand what it is she wanted. She often fled to her friends abroad to hold night-long talks like they did when they were young. Now it seems that as they grew up their problems also proliferated. And the pain that came with them also intensified.

Jennifer loved the feeling of flying in the clouds. Literally. Thousands of feet up in the air, for a few hours cut-off from the world was just what she needed when nothing went right.

Now she was on her way to Prague. That was the destination first available when she asked at the check-in counter. So she took it. She had never been there and maybe the sight-seeing excursions would help get her mind off the pain of her broken heart.

As she flicked through the on-board magazine referring to the city she would soon land at, Jennifer could imagine herself walking by the river and along the picturesque streets. Yet all she could think about was one person and one thing – she looked at her phone and wondered if she would ever hear the sound of a message arriving, that sweet greeting “Hey you!” that would restore the smile on her face.

It was up to fate what would happen but she certainly knew one thing – love is a strange thing that no one can master, no matter how good a ninja you may be.

The refuge that we seek

sycamore-treeThere is a tree in the back garden of Mrs Wilson’s house. A sycamore tree that has been growing tall for decades. I have always remembered it there. Offering its shade in the stifling summer heat, and its protection from the gushing winter hail. It has always been there. An ever-present protector.

Mrs Wilson says it was her grandfather that planted the tree. But she herself isn’t so sure about it either. How many generations have sat on its branches, pulled its leaves, climbed up its thick trunk and even hung from it self-made swings to play with. The incidents and life-experiences this tree could have witnessed are beyond measure.

Gemini, Mrs Wilson’s small Yorkshire dog was attached to this tree. No-one realized why. Ever since he was a puppy he would crawl up by its trunk and fall asleep. Whenever he was scolded for something he would run outside and hide under the shade and large, falling leaves of the tree. It was his haven. And even in the rain and thunder, he would stare outside the window at the tree and howl, upset that it was suffering the bad weather all alone when he was stuck inside.

It is amazing how creatures become attached to one another so intensely, so absolutely, so tightly. Things that some may consider so unimportant, things such as a tree that people simply cut down if it is in their way, things that do not offer some apparent benefit. It is these things though that provide the refuge, the protection, the support that we so often need.

Gemini found it in a great, old, sycamore tree.

Mrs Wilson found it in a photo of her husband who recently passed away.

And I, I find it anywhere, depending on the place and circumstance – in a soft-toy given by a loved one, in a picture of happier times, in a letter of love, in places that come from the heart.

 

Also part of Daily Prompt: Oasis

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