What if you were a poison.
If everything you touched was alive, and beautiful, and lush and precious and then it wasn’t. It was dead, and cold, and shriveled and black and burnt and in pain and aching. Aching, because you touched it. Because you were there.
What if you had Midas’ touch.
If everything you were near was changed. If you wanted to do good, with everything in you, but everything you did was destroyed, ruined, so close to fruition only to crash and burn, smoldering into a disaster so unrecognizable you had wasted all your time. Because you were present.
What if you emanated ill will.
If you couldn’t help it, but everyone you were close to was plagued with ill fortune. If bad things happened to them at every turn, if they were hurting and confused and their relationships were imploding and you were the one that set the charge. You did. Just by loving them.
These are not risks we run in everyday interactions.
We are not poison.
We are not capable of turning our loved ones to stone by a look, or killing them on sight.
We do not destroy, maim, harm, and confuse everyone we meet, everything we touch.
So why do you act like, in everyday conversations, you are capable of so much hurt?
Why are you so afraid to just love people?