Sometimes it seems like years, since it first happened. Sometimes, like days.
It’s like being run over by a train.
You hurt so much you cannot breathe.
But no one else can see the gaping, raw flesh.
You carry it around like a silent scar on your arm.
You try to hide it with new clothes.
But none of it works.
Because you can never get rid of the stain.
A large, brown stain which seeps into the present, the future and the past.
When we were on that happy family vacation if you can call it that in Dollywood, that summer, you say to yourself, he was really thinking of someone else.
And the thought is enough to make you rip out the pictures from the album.
This time, he says, there is no one else.
But I don’t believe him.
What do you do when your ex finds your blog? When he hacks your email, and reads your private conversations between you and your girlfriends, between you and your lawyer...and then he sees an email from a man, who it turns out happens to be working on your blog design? Your what? She has a blog? Well I guess I'll read it. What do you do when your heart breaks, when all that raw emotion you shared, I suppose with the world, but really never intended for him to see...how are you supposed to feel? What are you supposed to do?