I now believe that it gets better. I believe that it heals. I believe that the pain subsides. Nostalgia and memories mask the confusion that still digs into my wounds. But I see my scars and I believe that I'm healing. Although I can't get my mind around the blame and anger that towers over me and strives to break me. How can the people that know how much I loved my man think I would hurt him?? The people that saw me at his side all day embracing him tenderly and giving him life. How could they? Why do they blame me?
Enveloped within myself the things I thought I had figured out, I have to start learning again. The imagined world is not enough so reality it is. I believe I've learnt never to compromise my being
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