Published on May 16, 2009 By whatshesaid In Life

I have various outlets for writing.

One is a public outlet, where only the surface details of my happenings are revealed.
2nd, a locked journal, where only my closest friends are updated on what is really going on.
And then there's here, where I'm allowed to express myself freely and without being judged.

I try not to type like this in my other outlets.
When I do type like this, I get judged. People say I'm trying too hard to sound impressive with great vocab.
Truth is, I'm not trying at all. I'm not trying to impress, I'm not trying to do anything, but turn the voice inside my head into words.
It frustrates me, that how I type, and what I pen down for others' viewing pleasure, is another reason for me to be judged.
This, is me. Is it really that hard to comprehend that I speak and type like this, and that I'm not trying to be a tragic author or trying to astound the rest of the world with how I portray myself in words ? I, in no way, think I'm better than everyone else. I understand that maybe my vocabulary might be slightly bigger as compared to the rest of my peers, but that is really all. So I don't understand, I cannot, for the life of me, comprehend why am I being classified as a "show off" when all I want to do is to spin all my thoughts into literate words.

 

*

 

After 6 months of being inhumane, and 6 months of being numb, the dam has broken.
Seeing him, and feeling what he does to me whenever he is around, triggered so much inside me.
There is so much that I can't handle, so much that I can't explain, and for once, am unable to put into words.
The sight of him alone triggers joy and satisfaction. That I am seeing him again, in flesh, in person.
But something else that overwhelms me, that completely overrides that joy is... fear.
The only person whom I've loved and probably still do, incites pure undiluted fear in me.
I can't put my finger on the cause, and neither do I want to venture there.
All I know is this; here is a person with the ability to crush me with his mere finger.
And the worst part is; I know he will do it.

 

 

 

I do not want to re-live what I experienced and went through.
Being able to write about it, means that I'd have to talk a walk back to Memory Lane, feel it all over again, and then translate it into words. I can't do it. I don't have the means to do it. I can't bring myself to do it, neither can I subject my heart, or what's left of it, if there's anything else, to such torture.

I have chosen to wipe him out. I have chosen to regret the past, and I have chosen to cut him out.

I have chosen to erase that part of my past.

Please grant me the will and strength to stick with it.


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