weathered sweaters

2013 is without a doubt the year the Universe punched me in the face with cliches. And congratulations to 2014 for continuing this trend. Latest fist to make contact with my surprised countenance- vulnerability.

There is so much to be said about vulnerability and I've written before about its power. Tonight, however, I'm gonna write about the pain.

I ripped my heart out and sewed it onto my sleeve of my sweater and offered that hand knit sweater to a friend. They said they weren't into sweaters, or any outerwear actually, right now though they were deeply appreciative of mine and would like to still see it around.

I continued wearing the sweater, some days longer than others. It still fit nicely, even though I was slowly undoing it. Finally, after a few months, all I had left of that sweater was the heart I had sewed on. In an attempt to salvage the importance of the heart, I shared the details of the undoing with my friend which happened to involve their rumored interest in leather jackets. Seemingly understanding, they assured me that my sweater was very important to them and made no reference to the leather jacket at all.

Someone I share sweaters with called me later that same evening however, to let me know that my friend was intimately involved in checking out someone else leather jacket. A leather jacket I happened to know was disingenuous. The leather jacket, in fact, that I had mentioned more than once to my friend as the undoing of the sweater I hand knit for them.

No one is obligated to divulge their preference for outerwear or their usage of it- it's an entirely personal matter. However, when you encourage someone to share the details of their sweater knitting with you and claim to be interested and committed to the unspoken terms of honesty, it's a mutual thing-right? When you place your fragile and delicate sweater in my hands, you would think that the understanding was I would place mine in yours...whether temporarily or only relevantly. It's an unspoken expectation, I suppose.

Anyway, I'd heard horror stories of sweaters meant to be treasured becoming torn and shred apart. I had a few of my own. I had thought this time was different. I had thought my friend was different. I had felt safe, if nothing else, safe.

And now I feel betrayed because it has become apparent that I was the only one sharing my sweater and that's alright in some cases but was not the impression I was under. My fault maybe. I thought it was mutual on so many levels, though I should've realized I was knitting with one needle. Alone. My friend definitely watched me knit but that was the extent of the support and how I convinced myself it was anything more than maybe genuine kindness- I wish I knew.

Sweaters vs Leather Jackets...it's not even a competition because it's not even an equal comparison.. the only thing they have in common is categorizing as outerwear.

I am aware of the multitude of reasoning and explanations and realistic perceptions surrounding and abiding within the story I tell myself about the sweater. I'm sure of so few things, and was so sure that I was sure about my friend and the sweater we shared, though it wasn't the one I knit.

Now I'm only sure that the heart has been obliterated and there's nothing left of that sweater I knit and right now I don't care how cold I have to be or if I die from hypothermia

I never wanna see a sweater again.