The heart-breaking truth

That day which was so long ago, feels like it happened only a moment ago. The day when I heard a few whispers that would change my view of the world, of my life. Forever. I must have heard wrong. It couldn’t be true. Could it? As the days and months continued, more and more whispers would trigger thoughts to race through my mind.



It was all out in the open. Just not with me. When I found out however, it was already done and dusted. Life was back to the way it used to be. So it seemed. After that, I subconsciously became suspicious. My heart was pulling me one way, my head pulling me the other. One telling me it was all over, the other telling me there was something else. And then, there it was. A clue to feed my tired and hungry suspicions. I kept searching and searching. My qualms grew stronger, as I became weaker. I wanted to know the truth, in an attempt to prove my suspicions wrong. Only to find, they weren’t.





Every word I read would create an earthquake inside of me. Causing everything in my whole world to crumble. Wanting to shout. Scream. But incapable to do anything. Every word would add to the anger growing deeply within me and cause my thoughts to plan out words of truth. But my heart stopped me, for all the right reasons as well as all the wrong.





Months had passed and I hadn’t found anything new. Was that the end of it all? Had it finally stopped? These thoughts would constantly run through my mind as I searched and found nothing. Another month passed and still nothing. I wanted to stop searching but I couldn’t. Perhaps they had become smarter than me as the time passed and had gone ahead of me that one extra step in covering their tracks.





One night as I was searching, I discovered something new. Perhaps it is nothing I thought to myself. So I got out of it. But it started eating at me; it was too risky to leave it unnoticed. So I opened it. And there it was. I sat there in my bed, speechless, emotionless. What words could describe what I had just witnessed? What emotions could depict the images flashing before me? Hate? Not even close. Years of searching and finally my suspicions, turned into the heartbreaking truth. As unbearable as it was, I had realised. Every word. Every memory. Was a lie.



The more I saw, the more stiff I became. Unable to move or speak. I needed to tell somebody. Anybody. But I was too ashamed to do so. I sought to escape physically and mentally but I was trapped. Trapped with my unorthodox thoughts so overwhelming that if spoken would be disbelieved by others.





Knowing what I know now only makes it easier to pick out more of the lies told. As much as it hurts seeing these things, I can’t seem to stop myself and turn away from it. It’s like I’m drawn to it. Maybe I’m trying to deny reality. I don’t want it to be real so I keep looking, hoping to find some bit of evidence that would mean I was just being paranoid. But you can’t hide the truth. However, that’s exactly what I’m doing. I’m sick of making up excuses to protect them. I’m sick of hiding the truth from the people that should know. I’m sick of keeping it all in. But how can I tell them? How can I tell anyone? Or more appropriately, why would I tell anyone? Do they really need to suffer from the heartache that I do now?



I once heard a saying “God doesn’t give you what you can’t handle”. I often feel as though I’m not handling the situation. As if I’m a glass, that if pushed that tiny bit further will fall off the table and shatter into a million pieces. But then the sickening truth is realised. I am handling it. Which makes me wonder what kind of human being I am to be able to handle something as repulsive as this. Am I that sick and twisted to be able to contend with something like this.



I’m sworn to secrecy. Not by others, but myself. An unforgivable secret that would shred lives into nothing more than a painful existence.