See, I’ve been blamed and accused of seducing an uncle. An uncle that I’m never even aware of having. There are rumors, and there are confessions. And then assumptions. Then there a dots connected by people who don’t have a single clue about you. Now, I’m a talker, I go on and on about my life or I used to. I think I was looking for comfort or was desperate to be understood. And it took me a million wrong confessions to a few people to finally understand, no one really cares, you know? Absolutely no one gives a fuck. 

It was my weakness that I looked for love in all the wrong places from all the wrong people. I thought at least someone would see me beyond the mess I’ve become. I thought if I gave them a chance they’d put an effort for me too. I’ve never been more wrong. They just don’t care. Or they fail to understand how one person can carry this much baggage. 

So these accusations and these blames and these threats, that’s how its going to be. What am I ashamed of? My life? no. I’m not. Because I had no control over the events that followed in my early years. Those weren’t all my decisions, my parents decided for me and now that everything has gone to shit they avoid talking about it and blame me instead. Like everyone else. 

 I’m more ashamed of my wrong judgement in people I confided in. I’m more ashamed of the person I loved and trusted with my soul and my darkest deepest confessions hoping a corner of him would understand. I’m more ashamed I thought I was loved by someone and let him have my pictures and what not, only to see them going around now. That’s okay. I made a mistake. Like we all do at some point. A couple of mistakes actually. See the lesson here is, you think you know someone, but you don’t. You think you know what they are capable of, but you don’t. Like you see exactly what he would do, and all the signs are telling you its him, it’s him. But you wouldn’t believe. Because you didn’t love a monster, you thought. You thought he wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, despite all the pain and the abuse. 

How blind is love. How blind are we.