Inside and Out

Sometimes pain is inside. Sometimes pain is out.

I watched you walk. Limping. Struggling. One foot at a time, hunched over, stiff all the way up to your hips. I felt guilty for striding so easily and solidly beside you. It looked like it hurt you to walk... a lot.

Sometimes pain is inside. Sometimes pain is out.

You looked at me with suspicious eyes. As if because I was different from you, I hated you. As if I thought I was better than you. You looked like you believed it. I wish I could have somehow convinced you that I didn't.

Sometimes pain is inside. Sometimes pain is out.

I hate to see you crying. I hate to see your frustration. It is hard to bare, watching anyone in pain, much less someone you care about. And yet, what concerns me more are the things that I do not see. The things that you hide. Often times those hurts that you can't see are the deeper ones. The ones that hurt the most.

Sometimes pain is inside. Sometimes pain is out.