It started with the wine.
Smooth and unusually sweet, it slid over my tongue and made its way down my throat.
With each drink, I felt heavier.
The pressure of my conscious guard, dissipating into nothingness, was immense.
I became more raw, more vulnerable,
and as I emptied the bottle, I began to empty myself also.
Secrets.
Secrets that have been held captive by my insecurity began to crawl from within me.
I knew the two faces sitting across from me wanted to know what it was that had been eating me up lately.
These secrets, buried for so long have been gnawing at my mind, at my heart.
They changed me, controlled me. They forced me to make stupid decisions.
How can I possibly smile and love everyone, when all I can think about is how cruel people are.
Why did they hurt me so much? Why did they steal my innocence?
Why did I give up a piece of my soul to desperation?
My eyes pressed together,
cold, bitter jailers trying so hard to contain the imprisoned tears from escaping.
Once I set them free, they would tell everyone of the horrors they had witnessed,
horrors that were slowly killing me.
I couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't contain them.
The last sip of wine made its way into my body,
and the tears began to spill.
Secrets began to spill.
I was weak, terrified that they might tell somebody.
I anticipated the judgment and sheer hatred,
and I buried my face in my hands.
Then, suddenly, they were right by my side.
They hugged me.
They told me everything was going to be ok.
I was confused.
"But how can you know? How can you know these things won't come back to haunt me?"
"They already have. I can't believe you never told anyone. Everything is going to be ok. You are going to be ok."
...and for once, I actually believed it.
For the first time in a long time, I feel ok.
It's taken years and a lot of trust to be able to let this out.
I never realized how free I would feel.
Dealing with it alone was only causing detriment and depression.
I feel so lucky to have honest, real, beautiful people in my life.
Friendship is truly a blessing.
Smooth and unusually sweet, it slid over my tongue and made its way down my throat.
With each drink, I felt heavier.
The pressure of my conscious guard, dissipating into nothingness, was immense.
I became more raw, more vulnerable,
and as I emptied the bottle, I began to empty myself also.
Secrets.
Secrets that have been held captive by my insecurity began to crawl from within me.
I knew the two faces sitting across from me wanted to know what it was that had been eating me up lately.
These secrets, buried for so long have been gnawing at my mind, at my heart.
They changed me, controlled me. They forced me to make stupid decisions.
How can I possibly smile and love everyone, when all I can think about is how cruel people are.
Why did they hurt me so much? Why did they steal my innocence?
Why did I give up a piece of my soul to desperation?
My eyes pressed together,
cold, bitter jailers trying so hard to contain the imprisoned tears from escaping.
Once I set them free, they would tell everyone of the horrors they had witnessed,
horrors that were slowly killing me.
I couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't contain them.
The last sip of wine made its way into my body,
and the tears began to spill.
Secrets began to spill.
I was weak, terrified that they might tell somebody.
I anticipated the judgment and sheer hatred,
and I buried my face in my hands.
Then, suddenly, they were right by my side.
They hugged me.
They told me everything was going to be ok.
I was confused.
"But how can you know? How can you know these things won't come back to haunt me?"
"They already have. I can't believe you never told anyone. Everything is going to be ok. You are going to be ok."
...and for once, I actually believed it.
For the first time in a long time, I feel ok.
It's taken years and a lot of trust to be able to let this out.
I never realized how free I would feel.
Dealing with it alone was only causing detriment and depression.
I feel so lucky to have honest, real, beautiful people in my life.
Friendship is truly a blessing.
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