The Third Sunrise
My hands ache from typing. But I have a full day of typing. My head hurts from thinking and my heart is too heavy. Last week I counted my blessings and this week I sit inside where it's nice and dark, cozy save for my mind.
I am hurt. I feel as if the most important people in my life have pulled the rug out from underneath my precarious feet; I am flat on my ass and wishing they had any idea who I really am. The words, thrown at me and laced with ignorance and blood, hurt.
I read e-mails from them; bashing and cruel. And above all, completely incorrect. I work so hard. So goddamn hard. Just to survive and ultimately, to make my dream come true and help people. I hope I do a better job then they have this past week.
I should be given more credit. I should be believed. My honesty should be taken face value with with absolute trust and grace.
Slapped in the face and left to think; the world quickly black. I am so hurt.
Something has been irrevocable changed and things will never be the same. I will never open myself up to them again. I will never forget the e-mails, scathing, painful--leaving me in bed for two days to contemplate how useless I feel, how I wish they had any idea how goddamn hard I work, and sometimes---just to make them smile.
Life is not black and white. But it is full of a little bit of colour----just enough to give me some goddamn credit.
I cannot be specific in this blog because I have vowed to never hurt my family though I yearn to place their e-mails in this blog, all 800 words of them. Hurtful and mean and I cannot move on.
I can just keep writing.
Just like I always have.
And Blake, I love you, for saying what I cannot.