The Bystander

Words are the strongest form of security. Stronger than passcodes, keys, and face ID. The strongest and most powerful words will stay with a person much longer than any note or letter. So, when you both told me, “That’ll never happen to us.” I believed it. I held on to those words no matter what because you looked me dead in my eyes and told me that. I trusted you; I trusted him. I hadn’t a reason to doubt. Even through all the commotion, I held on to that sincere affirmation. 

It was always us, you, me, him. I can’t think of a time where we were together, and we weren’t happy. With all the love, the affirmations, the happiness between you both. It made the reality even harder to accept. That bitter pill someone wouldn’t swallow until they’re on their deathbed. 

Maybe if I hadn’t been so stupid, so stubborn. I would’ve been able to let go like any normal person, but you were all too convincing, you told me so. He told me. I relied on those words. 

Then you picked up arms. Pointed them to each other’s heads hoping to humiliate the other person, hoping to leave irreversible damage to each other with no regard for anyone else. Including myself. You fought hard, for something so insignificant. 

In the end you both lost, and I lost. However, nobody will ever acknowledge that I lost. You both will have allies and pack up and leave. Each with somebody to comfort them. A bystander is left on the ground to bleed. And nobody will care. 

… 

It’s sad. I’m the one who is left the ground. So, I push myself off the ground and desperately limp to you. My eyes are watery, and I tell you how I know you’re hurting and you’re a loving person, how everything is going to be okay. Then I tell you how I feel betrayed too. How hurt I feel. I hold your eye contact waiting for a reaction, I’m waiting for an embrace, I’m waiting for something. I’m waiting for you to acknowledge me. 

And you open your mouth, and spit words at me. Every word worse than the one before. For a brief moment, I’m confused. You can’t possibly be saying those things about me. Why would you? You’ve told me so many things about love and friendship. However, you continue and I only realize you mean it when I see you’ve been looking me dead in the eyes. The entire time. 

And that’s the end. 

That’s what I’m going to remember you by. 

I came to you for love, for solace. Even through all my words, all my emotion, you seemed to filter every single one of my words. You blocked them out and pretended they weren’t there.

Why? 

I acknowledged that you were hurt, but I’m hurting too. I didn’t hurt you. He did. I just came to you to get some comfort. To get comfort like you did after the fight. I wanted to tell you about how I felt. I know, I understand that I wasn’t fighting alongside you. But I was trying to help. 

I look at you, I think about it, maybe you’ve always been like this. Even while you were fighting, and I was hurt, you only looked at me for a second before you continued fighting your horrible, appalling, pointless war. 

Why? 

Yet I was merciful, I was forgiving, I just wanted some help. Yet you had to blame me. What did I even do? I’m the bystander. I didn’t have the weapon. I didn’t agree to this. Go to him. 

But I don’t say anything. You don’t deserve my words. I don’t deserve your words. The “that’ll never happen to us” I relied so much on, was a mask. Or maybe it wasn’t. It doesn’t matter because I don’t care. Words are only as strong as their speaker. They can be a person’s whole world and be their lifelong support. Or they can be the most unreliable things in the world. Just like you.  

-Aurora Seesink