Love, Liberate, Leave

Dear Brida,

In the echoes of our shared meals that now linger in empty spaces, I find myself reflecting on the intricacies of love and pain, of sacrifices made and ungrateful words spoken. It's in these tender moments that shadows and doubts dance.

Oh, the long nights when I stood by the stove, crafting dishes to soothe your hunger, only to be met with accusations of making a mess in the kitchen. Each clang of a utensil felt like a dagger, piercing not just the silence but also the fragile bonds of our connection. Of course, tears welled in my eyes, a testament to the pent-up emotions. And of course, you did not care. 

The subtle art of manipulation whispers in the spaces between your words, twisting truths and distorting realities. It's the act of making someone doubt their own perceptions, eroding faith until they question their own sanity.

But beneath the surface of simmering frustrations lies a deeper truth—a truth obscured by the fog of misunderstandings and unspoken pains. It's the truth of sacrifices unnoticed, of emotions neglected, and of wounds left unhealed.

In the tapestry of your love, I see the patterns of neglect and ungratefulness, of fights fought not for resolution but for the sake of being right. It's a heartbreaking symphony of missed opportunities for empathy, for compassion, for selflessness, and for truly understanding the depths of the other's sorrows.

This dance blinds us to the beauty of vulnerability, to the power of genuine apologies and forgiveness. It feeds on shallow validations and hollow victories, leaving us longing for the authenticity we once shared for fleeting, fleeting moments.

So let us not be prisoners of illusions, but rather seekers of truth and healing. Let us embrace the discomfort of facing our own shortcomings and the courage to confront the shadows within. The universe, nonetheless, notes all of our acts, and no one needs to fight for being right. Whatever it is, we reap what we sow.

Carlos