I’ve been afraid to write about it because I know that some of the things I want to say about it are wrong in their eyes. But I’m tired of it. I want to say my piece. I want my side to be heard. Then again, it’s not like any of the ones who mattered to me would be reading this. I could name them but that would violate their privacy. I saw photos of a wedding I would have been at if the Irish boy and I hadn’t broken up in October.
I got teary eyed staring at all the beautiful people I once called friends. And while I know I only have myself to blame for no longer being able to do so, it doesn’t change the fact that I miss them all. Dearly. The Bride was practically my best friend while I was living in Ireland. She is the warmest soul, and the sweetest heart. I would aspire to be like her; in every way1.
Maybe it was never about the cheating, but the lying2. People who know me may think I’m confident but I am human; I have insecurities too. This is my excuse for the lying. The fear of what would happen if I told someone the truth. It took a while, but I’m more comfortable with my truths now. Though the real test would be if I were able to stick to my truths when I start to have romantic feelings for somebody. For all of the relationships I’ve had, I feel like that’ll be the hardest hurdle yet. I know the logic behind it, but that doesn’t help me when I’m in the situation. The emotions are too strong to stay logical.
Going back to the Irish boy. I do miss having him in my life but I feel like it might be too soon for both of us. I know he had said once, soon after we broke up, that he wanted to keep me in his life but I think that was his heartbroken emotions talking. I’m sure he just full out hates me now. Or maybe it’s easier for me to think so. I know I committed the crimes, but that doesn’t make me any less heartbroken at the loss.
But this is my healing, pouring this out like this. If I don’t face it, it’ll stay buried. And all wounds, need oxygen to heal.