Sorry was not enough

I heard once that getting the truth is the only way to feel relieved.

I use to believe that because I was able to discover the truth and confront you about it, I had won.

I tried to always convince myself that your “sorry’s” actually meant something.

I believed that if I heard it come out of your mouth, if you begged me to stay, if you cried, I had won.

Even after you broke my heart, I thought that all I needed was an apology to move on and forget the pain.

I didn’t realize that I needed to accept who you were to truly move on.

I didn’t realize that by accepting those weak apologizes, I was only encouraging your bad behavior.

I didn’t realize that I was only making excuses for you, because I was afraid to be alone.

I didn’t realize that I needed to love myself again and see my worth to truly move on.

Until I actually did it.

So listen when I tell you…

Sorry is not enough…

Sorry couldn’t change the fact that my eyes had seen the pictures, the text messages, and the betrayal.

The damage was done, and things were never going to change no matter how good I was to you.

Being the perfect girlfriend never stopped you.

Being your best friend never stopped you.

Encouraging you never stopped you.

Listening to you never stopped you.

Believing in you never stopped you.

Making you laugh never stopped you.

Loving you right and being “The best you’ve ever had,” never stopped you.


forgiving you every time…

accepting your apologies every time…

accepting the flowers and the gifts…

sweeping it under the rug and putting on a smile…

was never going to stop you.

I know now how foolish I was for competing with them, yet my fractured heart always cried with hope that this time you’d prove me wrong.

I forgive you.

I’m finally letting you go.

I’m finally letting you rest in peace.

Just do me favor…

that gal, the one that made it worth walking away from the one who fought so much to keep you…

treat her better.


Confused Child

I wonder when he’ll stop hitting her.
I can’t bare the yelling any more, it keeps me up every night.
Why must Daddy always come home late and smelling so funny?
I wish he’d stop hitting her.
Why does he tell her she’s useless?
I can’t seem to understand?
Mommy isn’t useless, she’s so nice to Daddy and I.
She takes good care of me, sings to me, bathes me, reads to me, and even plays with me.
Sometimes when we are playing I can tell she’s tired, but she keeps playing.
Mommy isn’t useless at all; She cleans, cooks and irons Daddy’s work clothes very nicely.
I wish Daddy would see how special Mommy is…
Maybe I’ll tell him?
Maybe I won’t, last time I asked “Why do you hit Mommy?” He hit me too.
I don’t like to get hit, I’m a good child.
I love my Daddy, but I wonder when he’ll stop hitting her?

The perfect life


Ever since the early days family or personal problems were something you kept in between closed doors. You don’t speak on these issues because it is not seen as “right” to share them. Even now in days If you have the gut to speak on them you are not high fived for letting it out, if anything you are accused of desiring some kind of attention.
Even though I believe that only somethings are okay to share I don’t agree that nothing should be shared at all. Because if information isn’t shared then how do we learn that these are in deed problems at all?
Ever since I started my blog a lot of people have always asked me why I am the way I am. My boyfriend being one of them because he is a very private person. They have asked why I am not more private about my life and or why do I run a blog that’s almost like a dairy? But what they don’t always see is that I’m actually very private, I choose what I share and I know why I do it. Some might think “Maybe it’s attention she wants?” But attention and pity is the last thing I care to welcome. I just believe that sharing is the easiest way of getting help or appreciation. Its not attention I seek, it’s prevention that I wish to share, for we are all living through something and how do we get through it if we don’t know how? And how do we know how? We know how when we come across someone who has lived it too.
I mean think about it? How did we learn to get through a broken heart? Someone talked us through it.
How have we learned right from wrong? How to or how not to act?
What to take from others and what is not okay?
How did we learn the wrongs of abuse, disrespect, and torture?
How did we learned the cruelties of slavery or the history of the Holocaust?
We learned and continue to learn because stories are told, lives are shared through those that are living it for the reason that when the time comes again when someone or some of us suffer something similar we know how to fight through it and survive it.