T
Dear Husband
I'm broken, I was broken since the first day someone decided that I was theirs to touch inappropriately at the age of 8, I broke more as the years went on. Fragments of me lay scattered across the universe of life, each piece trying to find its own worth. Each piece miscommunicating with the other leading to complete desolation, like rolling tides in a stormy sea, my emotions, feelings and thoughts are tossed around being shaped into uneven pebbles finally to be washed out on the shore of some deserted island of nothingness.
Yes. This is me. Broken.
But aren't we all broken?
As many mistakes as I have made, and as imperfect as I am, you have made the same mistakes, but not once did I sweep your mistakes up only to throw them at your face, and constantly remind you of them, so why do you do this to me? Why am I constantly on trial, waiting to be convicted of my crimes?
Does this ever end. Or is this the end?
Broken or not, fragmented perhaps, but still just a girl, hoping that somehow love can prevail...but then again... its an idealistic dream in a world where sins are not forgiven, animosity prevails and hatred strips the love once harbored and casts it out into darkness for the demons to hack apart.
Your loving, judged, convicted Wife.
I'm broken, I was broken since the first day someone decided that I was theirs to touch inappropriately at the age of 8, I broke more as the years went on. Fragments of me lay scattered across the universe of life, each piece trying to find its own worth. Each piece miscommunicating with the other leading to complete desolation, like rolling tides in a stormy sea, my emotions, feelings and thoughts are tossed around being shaped into uneven pebbles finally to be washed out on the shore of some deserted island of nothingness.
Yes. This is me. Broken.
But aren't we all broken?
As many mistakes as I have made, and as imperfect as I am, you have made the same mistakes, but not once did I sweep your mistakes up only to throw them at your face, and constantly remind you of them, so why do you do this to me? Why am I constantly on trial, waiting to be convicted of my crimes?
Does this ever end. Or is this the end?
Broken or not, fragmented perhaps, but still just a girl, hoping that somehow love can prevail...but then again... its an idealistic dream in a world where sins are not forgiven, animosity prevails and hatred strips the love once harbored and casts it out into darkness for the demons to hack apart.
Your loving, judged, convicted Wife.