Or is it?
I wish people would remember that before they set out to hurt me. It has been eleven years and they can’t let go. I have let go. Finally. But they can’t. And who is they? People who don’t even know me. Who have never met me, spoken to me or even held my hand for a brief moment. If they had maybe then they would know that I am as human as they. That beneath the skin, lays a maze of veins gushing warm with blood that makes me as human as anyone else.
Why do you treat me like I am not of you? Have you not made mistakes, yes, even knowingly? Have you never hurt anyone? Have you never known what it was like to live with regret? I have. I have done all these and more and so have you. You know it and I know it.
Only God will judge me. So wait your turn and in the mean time, live your life on this earth with some dignity and respect. That is what I’m trying to do. And it’s a struggle for me every single day. That is the part nobody really speaks of. Here, live with my demons for a day and a night. It might make you think twice about making my life any more of a living hell.