Jasmin's Prompt:

Think about a part of your personality or identity that is deeply misunderstood, perhaps by friends, family or strangers.

 

Personify that emotion or piece of you and write a letter to it.

Write your letter in either poetry or prose.

Writer: Ari Reavis

Instagram: @kazy_arireavis

Ari Reavis is a romance author, wife, and mother of six. Born in New York and raised in New Jersey, she enjoys staying in, devouring books and watching movies. Her kids are running around, her husband is trying to show her martial arts moves, and she's trying to write. Her day in a nutshell.

Caring Too Little

They don’t understand you. They don’t know how I can care so little. How I can seem to disconnect between one breath and the next. But I know you’re my dearest friend in the world. You protect me. You shield me. And when I make the mistake of caring, of letting someone in, you’re there to pick up the pieces when they inevitably break my heart.


When I was young, I cared too much. You saw this. You saw what it did to me. You saw the pain it unleashed in me each time someone let me down. Each time someone hurt me. Each time I was shown that, in the end, how much I cared would only be used against me. You were there when my soul was shattered. No one comforted me. No one told me it would be okay. No one gave me hope that things could ever get better. Except you.


You told me that if I stopped feeling so much. If I stopped giving my heart to those who never deserved it in the first place. If I stopped trusting everyone. If I stopped wanting anything from anyone. If I stopped needing them, I would be better off. I would be better. You were right. I know there are things people think I should care more about, but how can I ever explain to them that not caring has gotten me to where I am? How could I ever make them understand that you were often the only thing that kept me from giving up on everything? It was your whispers in my ear that I could choose not to care about the person or thing that hurt me that allowed me to make it through most days. Someone who has not had to stop caring about the world could never understand that not caring was the only way I survived.


You helped me build the walls that keep me safe, that help me look at a person and decide that they’re not worth the effort it would take to let them in. You helped me to realize most would only destroy me if I dared to let them inside the fortress you gave me the strength to resurrect. You stuck your hand into the dark pit life had thrown me in and helped me climb out. Helped me see I would always be in the dark because of what life had dealt me, but that I could adjust to the dark. That I could see the world in shades of grey and find comfort in letting you take away all those useless emotions I’d wasted on people who only caused me pain.


I think they care too much, something I’ll never understand. They say I care far too little, something they’ll never understand. So we’ll just go on misunderstanding each other, and I’ll keep on not caring that they think I should care.

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