The Letter

She laid the letter on his desk, accompanied by his favorite sugar coated candies, and walked out. “He’ll be back” she said to herself, “they always come back.” It was true. Everyone who had ever hurt her, been dishonest, or left her life for any reason, all of them at some point had come back begging forgiveness and drenched in excuses. An email, a text message, a phone call, even a Facebook message; it was inevitable. Even people in high school who had stopped speaking to her at random had lost their ways in college and came crawling back. The message was always the same.
“Dear Friend, What an idiot I have been, your friendship was the best I ever had and times without you have been quite sad, please forgive my foolish ways, please remember the better days, I pledge to be a better friend, I pledge to tell the truth, I pledge that I am different, I swear I really need you.”
And she always forgave them. Her one vice was kindness; loyal to the point of liability, forgiving to a fault. She refused to see anything but the best in people and as such was often disappointed. She didn’t see people for who they were; she saw them for who she knew they would become; for who they could be. But that wasn’t who they were now, and to expect that of them was unfair. She was a pusher; she pushed people to their potential even when they didn’t want it, even when they could get there yet. She wanted everyone to be the absolute best they could be. It was because of this, that so many people came and went; the weak never made it. The strong ones saw this quality in her and thrived from it, always reaching for more. But the weak ones, they weren’t ready yet, not now, but they always came back. “He’ll be back” she told herself. “They always come back.”