I can see the cross you have been carrying around on your shoulders. A burden large enough to weigh down the act of letting go. Letting go is simple. Imagine dropping a hot potato. Plop. And you can walk away. But sometimes, we do not carry hot potatoes. Sometimes, we carry crosses we have been nailed & chained to, be it by our own shackles. And letting go can threaten to crush you under the enormous weight.
I can see that. That is no small cross. And you cannot make it go away on a paper plane.
But crosses can be bridges. They can help you bridge a vertical drop between two high cliffs, move on to the other shore, separated at the moment by a gaping hole that threatens to engulf you whole. His form of words may have been part of the cross you have to bear, perhaps for the rest of your life. But there truly is no reason why it cannot help you take flight, away from his world and ideas. Those same words, the same form of art, twisted and hurtful in his mouth, can transform to freedom and flight in yours.
Words are just the chosen weapon of choice. Words are also just the chosen form of medicine. What makes you different, stronger and beautiful is the silence in which you can etch this learning into your mind. What makes you you is that you have chosen healing over hurt. Why else would so many beautiful people find you now? Because you have made space for them to come to you.
Hey you. Like attracts like. You know where this comes from.