I tried to move on without confessing something to myself. I know now that trying to do so was a mistake. I can't outrun it. I can't pretend it didn't happen. I can't convince myself it wasn't my fault. I can't even close my eyes, without the images of the unforgivable, appearing in my head. But what I can do is learn to accept the past and think of it as a guide for the future...
I don't know what's out there waiting for me. I've made my wish. I've charted my coarse. I did my best. Now all I can do is wait for things to unfold. They might unravel exactly the way I pictured it in my head or the outcome could be completely different from what I expect. I honestly don't care anymore, because there's nothing more I can do. I don't have the energy to keep hoping and wishing. There has been too much of that already. I've reached the point where my main concern is just getting through, one day at a time...
Ss here it is. The truth. The truth about everything, about everyone. I've been hiding it for so long that it doesn't even seem real anymore. But it is. The residue of it hurts to this very day. The truth is painful. It's terrifying. But at the end it's all I have left. And because it's the last thing I have, I guess I have no choice but to keep it to myself and hide it forever...
