I hardly know anymore.
But I do know that I am:
Exhausted of being pushed away and then pulled close.
Stunned that I trusted my secret was safe until I heard it on someone else’s lips.
Depleted of apologies to keep the peace, to make nice, to stop the screaming.
Distressed that the friend I thought I had,who was always happy to pour out their soul to me, could not bother to ask me one more question.
Discouraged that I recognized the hate and nastiness spewing out of the mouth of someone who swore she would be nothing like him.
Confused that I continue to find ways to place guilt and blame squarely on my own shoulders for everything.
Vacated even if it appears someone is home.
Angered that my history is continually revised by someone other than me.
Convinced that if is no one is looking it does not matter if I am hiding or lost.