Something transpired today, which is why I write tonight.
I think it’s important.
It hit me full force today that I will never escape the past. This is fact. I will never arrive at a permanent closure. This is fact. I will never be wholly okay. This is fact.
Today my childhood memories clashed with the present, colliding and crashing with an impact so strong that I’m thrown off-balance. In that moment, I realized that here I am, at the intersection of adulthood and childhood, understanding with a clarity that aches me to the core that in order to move forward, I must accept the past. In order to move forward – to progress – I must accept all the events that transpired, those same ones that are out of my reach to change.
Today I am sad, but isn’t it sadder that I felt nothing in that moment when your words hit me like a ton of bricks smashed to my face? Sometimes when I recall what happened today, I want to laugh. I refuse to spare tears. You forgot that I am no longer a child, but whom am I kidding? Even back then, you forgot I was a child with opinions and eyes that observed too much and ears that listened to far too many untold stories. Today you forgot that I am now an adult; you attempted to shut me out, perhaps out of fear of the weight of my words. Just like back then, you feared the opinions and thoughts on my mind. But unlike then, I no longer hesitate to speak my mind and stand my ground against your baseless accusations.
Today you changed your narratives via your accusatory tone and flightless words. Perhaps you conveniently forgot this, but unlike all the times in the past, this time you uttered those words to an adult me. Don’t mistake my niceness for cluelessness. Don’t take for granted the kindess I have given and the forgiveness I have worked, hard, to extend. You can keep writing this so-called award-winning television drama if you wish, but I have never been anyone’s actress. Not when I was a child who witnessed and felt too much; not even when I was a young girl who went away and discovered an alternate life; and not now, as a returning young woman with old eyes and an older soul. And so today I will change my narratives too, rewriting mine whereupon up until today, in my childhood eyes, you were a hero.
Today I will write the truth.
It goes like this:
You are a coward.
You can go ahead and keep calling yourself a man, but I sincerely hope that in my lifetime, I will never come across and end up loving a man like you. This is fact.