This post is not part of my usual schedule, but it says some things I needed to say…
I was wrong.
I was wrong to think — to believe — that you were my match, that you were my equal. I was wrong to think we believed the same things, or that we were on the same path. Words can lie and mislead, and yours lied to me, allowed my heart to be misled by hope.
You did not intend to hurt me. But you also failed to step up and be a partner when you saw that I was hurting. You did nothing. You stayed silent. You stayed passive. You turned away from me, and ignored me. Your words turned away from me, turned into disappointment in me, frustration in me.
I fought to be at your side, and you kept walking away.
And when I couldn’t fight anymore, when I was tired and bruised and bloody from constant battle, weary to the soul, what did you do then? Nothing. You told me it was my fight, my choice. Your actions and words sent a loud clear message: You didn’t care. I was nothing to you. I didn’t matter.
You were wrong.
You were wrong to think I was nothing, that I didn’t matter. You were wrong to treat me as a problem, an annoyance. You were wrong to treat me as less than a partner. You were wrong to stand idly by as those you cared about mistreated me. You were wrong to watch and do nothing as I fought, to blame me for fighting, to tell me I shouldn’t fight, to tell me I was wrong.
You were wrong.
I carry the scars, still fresh, on my bleeding heart. I carry the weariness, the sadness, the hurt and the guilt. It is not my burden to bare, but you made it mine. You failed to be my partner, and I constantly pay the price. I carry the anger, too. That is mine, my right, won in battle. I shouldn’t have to wear it, but I choose to take it up because without it what else is left? The battle is still being fought, every day, by my sisters and friends. I wear it for them, and for myself, until there is a day when no one hurts us anymore.