Give me just one moment.
I try to give you grace. I try to be understanding. I know this time of year is hard for you, maybe harder than I can fully comprehend. I know certain dates carry weight, certain memories return uninvited, and grief has a way of sharpening everything it touches. So I try to remember that when the tension rises. I try to let things slide off my shoulders. I try to tell myself not every word is meant the way it lands. I try to believe the hurt speaking is not the real you, but the pain inside of you.
Still, some words cut deeper than they should, so much deeper.
So I need a moment.
Just one quiet moment away from it all. A moment where I can let the tears fall without having to explain them. A moment where I can release the ache building in my chest. A moment to fall apart without judgment, without an audience, without needing to stay strong for anyone else. Just one moment where I can focus on me.
A breath.
A pause.
A chance to gather the broken pieces before stepping back into the storm. Because once that moment passes, I will return to caring for you. I will steady myself again. I will rebuild my shields, brick by brick. I will raise the walls I did not want to need, and hope the next sharp words do not find their way through the cracks, straight into my soul.
I will cradle this battered heart and ask it to keep beating softly. Because I know this season is cruel to you. I know the pain you carry looks for somewhere to go, and sometimes it leaves your lips as words meant to wound because you yourself are wounded. Hurt has a way of reaching for hurt. Of wanting the people around you to feel as broken as you yourself do.
And still, for this moment, I forgive you. For this moment, I choose compassion over anger. For this moment, I choose understanding over pride. For this moment, I will meet your sorrow with gentleness, even while tending to my own.
For this moment, I will give you love.
-Bella Imperia
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