Secrets Buried…

One of the pieces I have been working on is a blog titled Secrets Buried. This blog is one that I have been iffy about even publishing on my blog. I think I decided to write about such a challenging topic because I wanted to make sense of it in my mind and I figured I have nothing to lose. It’s my blog, my words and it’s part of my story. This was hard to write and even harder to post

The thought of you sickens me, I know it’s wrong to dislike people, but let me be the first to say I dislike your actions. I dislike you not because of the person you are, but because of decision you chose to make. The decision to hurt me. What you did some say is unforgivable. I say it’s life. People you trust, hurt you. Family hurts you. Friends hurt you, seems to be such a normal occurrence now a days. I can’t believe it’s been 6 years. You are part of the reason my trust was crushed and why I had the worse last two weeks of high school ever. I remember how broken, violated, and confused I felt. It seemed the support I wanted the most, blamed me for what had happened. My view of men became blurry, like I wasn’t sure who to trust or if I should have faith in guys, of if I just needed to be on my guard. More than anything, confusion overwhelmed me. I don’t  remember talking about what happened too much with anyone. Time just moved on and my heart was still shattered, and deep down I became more bitter and I began to deeply despise the place I called “home.” I remember attending therapy a while back, and writing you a long letter, but after I sent it I ensured you didn’t have a way to write me back. I couldn’t bare the thought that you might actually try to write back and explain your actions. At the time I thought that was the only closure I needed, I thought the rest of the hurt would fade away overtime, but it didn’t. I remember how you lied to everyone and how your relatives even tried to hurt me. I remember how you denied everything and tried to get people to lie and side with you. I don’t know if me writing this means I don’t forgive you. I want to. Me writing this allows me to get it on “paper,” out of my head. Though I am sure it will never make sense to me what you did no matter how many times I write, I cry, or pray, and that’s okay God is working it out. Every time I write about this I feel more free, and even on my bad days I won’t let your choices hurt me more than they already have. It hurts, it breaks my heart, it disgusts me, and most of all it disappointments me. I realize though the more time that goes by and the more I heal, it all seems like a distant memory I wish I could just forget……


Secrets Unburied


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