An important day passed last week. An anniversary of sorts. One that only three people in the world know of, and only two (who probably don’t remember) could place the exact date.
It was five years ago. It still feels like yesterday. I still remember being so scared, and wanting so badly to be woken up and told that it was a dream. That this wasn’t my life, and mine was waiting somewhere else for me and I could kindly pick it up at my leisure.
But it was mine. And I did that. And I struggle everyday with the amount of guilt and pain and dirtiness I feel. Its a bit ironic since I have made my life’s mission to make others feel not so dirty in doing the same. Well, really it is to make it so that others never have to go there - but if they do, to feel differently while they are there.
I do not regret it. I often think about how different my life would be if it never happened, if it never had to happen. I am still unsure which version I like better. There are days where the first makes my heart melt with joy and pride. Others where I know my life now if flawed, but just the way it should be.
I guess I am writing this, because I still feel like there is no one on Earth I can talk to about it. I hope one day that is different. Not that I want to talk about it everyday, but it would be nice if I could. Until then, I’ll just wander off sometimes and think about all the alternate realities, then shake them off and head back to my life.