It’s Sunday

One of my deepest pleasures in life is a simple project by a man who didn’t even realize how large it would become. Postsecret is my favorite thing on Sundays and if you don’t know what it is you should go to The principal behind it is that hundreds of people send in their secrets something that holds them to the grips of their demise and so on and so forth. Or secrets that are just hysterical. Yes I have tried to send in my own only for them not to get published (sadness) but this week a secret struck me.


I know I’ve been saying that I was abused and molested, but I wonder if this will always be me. Will I always feel like sex is abuse? Can I really get over that feeling of guilt and instead find comfort in the arms of another? How much longer do I have to wait while tiptoeing around the situation? Who is going to want to deal with that–I mean we hear of countless numbers of boys who dump their girl friends because they won’t have sex with them. Am I mean to be alone? Is there really someone out there who will look at my story and my broken past and say, “Did you expect me to haul out the door? I love you. If anything I love you more now that you had the strength to tell me.” Ah yes, but I am sure this man will come the same time pigs fly, the economy is fixed, and so on and so forth. Am I really just S.O.L?


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Filed under Memories, Questions, Worries

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