Lived Between Us

I fell asleep remembering a time that I treated someone terribly. Just terribly. I was young. I'm sure I was hurt and thought my behavior was just a retaliation not an offensive act. And I remembered the hurt that lived between us for a long time. 

Last night I fell into a sad sort of sleeping. 

I woke up with a stomach ache wondering why it is that when we're vulnerable we're also the most likely to inflict pain? What is it about the height of emotions that inspires a person, inspired me, to inflict such cruelty? Why is it that mellowing out or growing into a more stable person also means I have fewer barbed edges? That once I'm less easily hurt, I'm also less likely to hurt someone else. I grow better buffered and I grow more careful with everyone else at the same time. 

I fell asleep last night thinking about the sharper edges I used to have. The scars that must have marked the places I had been. Sometimes I'll wake up and fling up an apology to the sky over some moment I wish I could have to do over again. Some moment I could have been kinder, some moment in which I might have been less hot tempered. And I'll just hope the words, or at least the sentiment, lands with the intended person.