the life of a loyal doormat

right. im a doormat. i let myself get stepped on all the time and i do it in the name of love. i am a doormat. i am at your mercy, if i care about you, i will not say no to something i can reasonably give. if i can do it for you, i will, if i can sacrifice it for you, i might give up everything. i let myself get used. i pretend to stand like a desert tower, strong, diligent and full of definite boundaries. i am its moat instead. walk over me, walk straight into my heart, do what you like, make yourself at home, etc. etc. etc. i am uncertain, i value relationships above my own thoughts, i will do anything (mark this) anything, to keep, maintain, and protect the life of a relationship. after all, they are but little plants struggling to grow, and i will pour my own blood before i let them die. i will live sick for days with a nervous stomach ache before choose to do anything that might, might effect a friendship. i am loyal, i will lay at your doorstep til you throw me in the dumpster, i am your doormat.

change of heart

she had broken down several times that week, but todays breakdown was different. it was like the storm that marks the end of a season. the winds that purge the dead leaves from the trees before winter, or the torrential rains that herald the coming of spring. todays breakdown was a fight, a battle, and the end of a war. it was time for change and she felt in her soul the desire for a new direction. it was time she shed last year's skin, and she did it in one day, scrubbing it off in the shower, blow-drying it from her hair, and starting with a new face. feeling new, she stepped from her front door, strode down the hall, and walked down the hollow-sounding stairs. she stopped at the mailbox near the base of them, reached in tentatively and pulled out a single envelope addressed with her fathers sweeping handwriting. an instant smile found residence on her mouth and stayed as she opened the door from the cool hall and stepped into the temperate sunshine. she held onto the letter, too fearful to open it, afraid of the tears that were inevitable. in agonizingly slow numbered steps she opened it, #1: read the address, assess the envelope, #2 rip open the top of the letter, #3 read the first line, #4 place the letter back into the envelope unread. #5 pull out the letter again, look at it, put it down, pick it up, read it all and cry.
it said,
"dear skye,
hey there kiddo! how is work? how is life? i am so proud of you and all you accomplish. but just know that my love is unconditional! no matter what you do, you will always be loved very much by me. i was very proud, but not surprised by you being on the seattle P.I. i would like a copy of that if you could get one. things here at the ranch have been good. breakfast is served between 7:00 and 8:00, lunch 12:00 and 1:00, dinner from 5:00 to 6:00. we also get a snack at 10:00 we have a pool and a weight room to work out. I work 40 hours and i take 6 to 7 classes a week so i am quite busy. I have to go now since i have to go to work. I will write again as soon as i can. please write soon and send pictures if you can.
love, dad"
the letter read like from a kid at summer camp, but in even in its simplicity it thrilled her to read it. it blessed her to know that her father was thinking of her even in drug rehab. it was that day, like the other changes that took place, that her opinion of her father changed, and she remembered the kind of father he was. she remembered who he had been, not what he had let himself become. she remembered, that even though he had made bad choices, and been a bad person sometimes, that he had always treated her well, with love and respect, with care and teacher-like patience. she also came to the realization that if he was able to exhibit those qualities to her, then they truthfully existed within him, and that change was not impossible for him.