I don't know what came over me today. We were in the middle of a heated argument, and I raised my hand instinctively to make a point, but then I saw it - that flinch. The way she recoiled ever so slightly, as if anticipating a blow. It was like a punch to the gut.
I froze in that moment, my hand still suspended in mid-air. How could I have made her feel that scared? Sure, we argue sometimes; it's part of any relationship. But never once have I laid a finger on her in anger.
She looked up at me with those big eyes filled with fear and confusion. It broke something inside me - something primal and protective stirred within my chest.
I immediately dropped my hand and took a step back, trying to reassure her that everything was okay now. But deep down, I knew it wasn't okay - not by a long shot.
My dad always used to tell stories about his wild days as an athlete – how he would do reckless things just for the thrill of it all. And maybe some of that recklessness has seeped into my own actions without me even realizing it.
But seeing her flinch like that...it's like looking into a mirror reflecting back all the parts of myself I never wanted to see again.
I hate feeling this helpless rage bubbling beneath the surface – this uncontrollable urge to lash out when things get tough or when someone challenges me.
She didn’t deserve any hint of violence from anyone—especially not from someone who claimed they loved them more than anything else—and yet here we are—facing another obstacle due partly because Andrew lost control momentarily during their disagreement earlier today…
It’s moments like these where words fail you completely…where apologies ring hollow…when all you can do is sit there silently contemplating your own demons before finally uttering “sorry” too late for anybody other than yourself alone…and even then—it may be too late already…
The weightiness lingers heavy upon both our shoulders tonight—as if waiting patiently until morning light reveals whatever remains hidden behind closed doors…