Fallen

Something unexpected happened today, and it has saddened me the way that I have never felt for a long time. I have let my own words destroy the very being that I needed to save. I should have let the beauty of my inner mumblings rot inside my heart and should have not let another feel the burden. My unacknowledged masterpiece has made another person miserable and now I am discouraged to write another word . . . about . . . priceless wishes. I didn't mean for that person to misinterpret or give a whole new meaning to my unwanted ramblings. I just wanted him to be free from his personal demons by giving him hope that there is absolution. Maybe not today, but in the future . . . where there is uncertainty, with or without me. I feel like I have been emotionally blackmailed and that the thoughts that I so desperately needed to exhale were turned into the very thing that would stiffle my breathing in the end, and leave me a little less lifeless than what I have been before. Is it my fault to be inspired by the grief that embodies him and be compelled to turn his sorrow into something beautiful, more than he can imagine? I wash my hands off that guilt. I was just trying to be an angel, and now I have fallen. My conscience has been screaming bloody warnings at me and I am very much afraid. I guess I deserve this kind of agitation. For me to continue to be kind seems intolerable cruelty to him, and to be brutally cruel seems like kindness. Whatever I choose to do seems like Catch 22. I will lose either way. I have never meant for this to happen- to be stuck in a void where emotions collide. But here I am, absorbing all the pain that this unexpected turn of event has to offer. I can never escape it. It's too late now . . . and I'm crying my tears red. I never wished for his eyes to go blind with the mere thought of my radiance. I don't deserve such adoration. Nor did I wish to hear his ragged breathing that sounded like rasping in my ears. I feel myself burdened with the thought of his agony because it was never my intention to hurt. All I ever wanted was to share the feelings stirred within me through the meticulous weaving of words, hoping that if I did, I could revive someone who has been broken. I never thought that even through discreet metaphors, my deep emotions could render someone a little incapacitated. I am not really an angel, just like he imagined. I can never be one now because I have caused someone to figuratively bleed. I have failed in my task to save a life. And now, I could never write another word about priceless wishes, because I have already fallen.