Found this bit in my archive, dated late 2012. It was something I always felt, something I always wanted to tell her, but had to hold in. So many frustrating times, so many hurtful ones. And yet, I held on. Oh well, a bit too late but here it is now.
Sometimes it feels like a dirty little secret, safely tucked away at the back of a huge closet. Ashamed of being found, ashamed of even the thought of being thought of. It is only behind closed doors that this secret is carefully taken out of its dark corner, the pain and pleasure slowly savoured as it completely consumes you in a desperate bid to remind you that it is all very real. That it is a part of you. That it is here to stay. No matter how many times you try to shove it back into that dark, tiny space, it still remains. It nags from the back of your mind, screams its presence from that special place in your heart, and from your eyes, that familiar prickle that signals the onset of a torrential flood of tears.
You become emotional, unstable, a ghost of what you used to be. So fearful, so full of suspicion.When someone attempts to even go near that, you jump right up and shove them back. Paranoia sets in. Every look sent your way sets you thinking of ways to push that secret even deeper in hiding.
How much more can it be pushed before it decides it has had enough?
How much longer can we live that way?