9. Killing Me.

I think I finally understand what Roberta Flack meant when she sang:

I felt he found my letters and read each one out loud,
I prayed that he would finish but he just kept right on...

Except, I'm the one that is strumming my pain because every day I go back for more, to sing my life with L's words; it is killing me. I am drawn to the stop and I wish I could change my route so I won't have to face L and all the memories that have surfaced because of L's notes: but I can't; I like torturing myself. L is telling my whole life; with words; killing me: slowly, softly, painfully and I like it. I'm a masochist. I deserve this punishment. I've done dreadful, horrible things and I've ran for too long and hid to well, but judgment day always catches up, and mine could be right around the corner.

I have a choice.

I can either forget that L exists, forget the notes, forget how close L came to revealing my dark truths. I can forget and continue my life and pray that I never encounter anyone or anything that can make me remember my demons.

Thanks LucaM Photography!

Or, I can face it. I can confront my demons and force myself to understand where all the pain and hate I harbor comes from and figure out how I can make peace with it. I can leave a note for L and come face to face with the person who isn't afraid to tell the truth; with the person who is articulating my truth better than I ever could.

I have to stop running.
I have to stop hiding.