Yesterday, I imagined my friend saying the words that he had difficulty saying. How as he said them, they fluttered across the country over the phone and break into a burning clarity that she didn’t want to hear.
I remember how I said the same exact words once. And how saying them was forcing my body to do something out of its comfort zone. When the body only wants to be wrapped with a down blanket, lying on its side. Hoping for the next moment of relief.
I have learned that there’s no right. There’s no wrong. Whether something is said with compassion or anger, it is said. And I hope that the words were carefully chosen.