February 28, 2018

I don’t want to write it down. To write it would be to admit that something is wrong. To accept defeat. To show my wounds, both open and scared. It is easier just to suppress the aches and knots in your stomach. To forget. And too agree. However they are piling up inside me and I’m running out of room. So here I will spill them, where they live but shall never be known. They do not deserve a name, for they will never be recognized. But if they did, I’d call them secrets. Because that’s what they are to me. Day after day I am hurt. Surprisingly by the one I trust most. With love comes compassion. But what if a loved one is unable to revert their blows. They can knock you down with a single breath, but are unable to set you on your feet again. What does that make them? Flawed but never the less sincerely apologetic? Or worse, more powerful than your greatest enemy? This is what I struggle to come to terms with.  after I climb to my feet I try again, forget, move on, love. But again I fall. If your offender has to be told how to revert the crime, is their any forgiveness of their own. Or are they just taking orders, that is until they strike again. This is why I have decided to stay down. A place where the hate cannot beat me. Because it is me. It has consumed me and broken me and owns me. But maybe it is not until then that they will learn. If I continuously rise on my own, how are they to know that I need help. Why would they waste the time? Because they care? No. Because I am strong. But I want to save my strength for my enemies. Not for my loved. But yet here I am, the biggest battle of all opposed by love. Who am I to judge. Who am I to fight. Instead I will just fall. Today I will just be. Because without the strength to stand, I cannot be knocked to my feet.

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