<body><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener('load', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/platform.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() { if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) { gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({ url: 'https://www.blogger.com/navbar.g?targetBlogID\x3d10160736\x26blogName\x3dMiss+Hag.\x26publishMode\x3dPUBLISH_MODE_BLOGSPOT\x26navbarType\x3dTAN\x26layoutType\x3dCLASSIC\x26searchRoot\x3dhttps://misshag.blogspot.com/search\x26blogLocale\x3den_US\x26v\x3d2\x26homepageUrl\x3dhttp://misshag.blogspot.com/\x26vt\x3d828586921980882804', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe" }); } }); </script>

5.11.2005

Open Letter To You Who Should Have Known Better

Image hosted by Photobucket.com


Every once in a while (less frequently than before, but more than I wish), I have a day like yesterday. Unexplained explosions of emotion -- a trembling anger that slowly subsides to a dark sadness. A private anguish too painful to explain, too existentially dreadful not to ponder.

I have few secrets -- he has one. You.

I refuse to allow the obvious reasons to excuse the past -- specifically: fractured family structure, ignorance of youth, corporal weakness. Everyone has a cross to bear -- even 7 year olds. I grew up in the same town, saw the same wasteland of options for life. I smelled the same toil of burning mills producing nothing but toxic fumes, felt the same weight of puritanical New England homogeneity. I grew up under an impenetrable cloud of despair. But, I never resorted to the horrible, degrading actions that you incited on an innocent.

Fast forward to the present. It is a burden he can't shake, a sadness he can't abate. He has surpassed that perverse moment, but he will never fully recover. He will never be completely free. And, it's your fault.
You were a horrible girl. You are a horrible woman -- you've damaged the soul of someone I love and I will always hate you for it. That is a cross I willingly bear.

link * Miss Marisol posted at 3:13 PM * posted by Miss Marisol @ 3:13 PM   |