On the inside looking out

Why fret over what people think of you? Should another’s opinion even leave a ghost of a trace on your soul? Some sign perhaps but not a scar. To want to be thought well of is so achingly human. It is just so hard to believe those you have come to care about see good in you. Yet common sense says they must or they would not keep your company. Here again I reflect my own sentiments onto a third party. That way it feels less like a confessional and I handle it better.

“You know, you are your own harshest critic!” Yes he knew he was and her words still hammered in his head hours after their utterance. Even that was criticism and it cut him open. He loved her unconditionally as a friend and would lay down his life if asked.

He had waded through stinking swamps for years not caring about anyone. His friends drifted off one by one until he was left only with leaches. They sucked him hollow and fell away when he left the bar. Learning to find good new people had been frightening. His new heightened awareness screamed for comfort not criticism. Since he broke off his affair with the bottle his senses were sharp as any razor.

He had discovered the capacity to love those he respected and he yearned for that love to be returned. Scrambling out of the deepest darkest pit had been a success but the price had been high. Sometimes it felt too high. He judged by his own dizzyingly high standards and his love demanded honesty and kindness in return.

Dimly he heard a friend’s voice calling him, reassuring him. The truth burst into his consciousness. She was really saying he had no critics but himself, everyone else liked him at least a little. He awoke crying hard. Hot salty tears of relief streamed down his cheeks. Now he had to try to explain those tears.