Mistakingly Bad Habits

I think I made a mistake. I don’t want to call it that. Or see it as such.

It hurts. Doesn’t feel good at all. It’s like I keep failing at the same thing. And I don’t want to.

I go in with pure intentions. Maybe even desires. Yearning. Needs. Maybe even wants.

But, I’ll say I mean well. No harm to cause or do.

Every response won’t be welcome. The actions may not be reciprocated. But the heart or mind should know — no malice was meant. Nor showcased.

Am I the same fool from the same lessons I learn over and over and yet again? Is this cycle invited? Could it be intentional self-harm?

Maybe it’s a remnant of hope. A possibility. Some thing for myself. It’s all that’s required.

But maybe the time was short-lived. Beautiful barriers built for no reason. Scaring a picturesque opportunity for joy.

I may never understand why. I may pray. I may trust and give it to God. And in that, in faith, it still may not feel good.

This time is no different. But the clarity is in the tears. They’re on the inside. No need for them to come out. Cherishing them as water to nourish that within me that should be flourishing.

Mistakingly bad habits. Not intentional.