I have an unhealthy habit of looking back when I should just keep moving forward, past be damned. But I guess that's just how I'm wired—to care and understand. Maybe it’s foolishness, maybe it’s kindness, maybe it’s both. But in a world full of half truths, I want to fully live the weight of my own honesty.
Conflicts, at its core, is a collision of two realities. In that space where intent fails to meet understanding, resentment takes root, fueled by pride, fear, wounded egos and unhealed wounds. I did something wrong. Unintentional, but still wrong. I thought I could fix it by reaching out; turns out the very act of understanding and naming emotions, identifying what caused them and the extent of the damage, can hurt people.
I hate that I understand.
But me understanding that, can't open a closed door, force a conversation when it's obvious they prefer indirect hostility. Moreover, to pretend the conflict began and ended with me alone would be unfair.
There's one line Paulo Coelho wrote in in his poem, Closing Cycles: one always has to know when a stage comes to an end. While I dislike leaving things fragmented and unresolved, I learned that we can't force clarity. Sometimes its better to just take a step back and leave things be.
Closing cycles, shutting doors, ending chapters–whatever name we give it, what matters is to leave in the past the moments of life that we have finished.
I'm not one to turn my back on friendships. My friends are only a handful but longstanding. This one isn't on me.
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