The most difficult thing to me about intimate relationships is to observe my loved ones being in what looks to me like pain. Especially the pain of their own minds. I so badly want them to see what they’re creating and to be happy instead.
This desire has led me to interject myself to the point where I can seem arrogant and even controlling and judgmental.
And they’re right. The “fault” isn’t me caring about them, but rather in me forgetting that this is what being a human being and learning looks like. The truth, I sometimes realize, is not that I am watching them suffer, but rather that I am watching them blossom.
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