Tear me open again

Medieval Times saga continues. There are always two sides to every story, and they deny any wrongdoing on their part. The truth is twisted to suit the point of view. It's always the way. There is MY truth and there is their truth and the REAL truth.... well, some would say it is somewhere in the middle ground.

I feel like my thick deeply rooted scar is now torn open, hanging loosely from my chest on the threads of hope that I had before I got their reply...threads of wishing they would just admit their wrong and apologize. That would be too simple. Now my heart is laid bare again, bleeding all over, hot hurt and anger and grief and deep deep sadness darkeningstaining everything red drying to rusty flakes on my skin. I smell of iron and leather and sweat and I used to smell like horses and happiness.

I have been in this place before- trying desperately to find a replacement for the thing I have lost.

I have lost sight of the hopeful open trusting heart that I cavorted through life with, giving everyone the benefit of the doubt, seeing the best instead of the worst... I suspect that heart is still somewhere, but it is smaller, hiding in shadows and wrapped into itself, and afraid.

Now I feel as if I am on my own, with no joyful companion to walk beside me. One foot in fromt of the other, heavy steps, head hanging, eyes are darker.

I do not reveal myself easily. I do not trust motive or intention.

I have become aware that what I see as truth is often just a mirage.

I am too angry to give up.

too heartbroken

heartbroken