You know I used to question myself of leaving my husband over 20 years ago. My life has been so hard and being a woman alone is frowned upon, separating from others, and extremely difficult to support yourself. I felt because of all that was done to me after that that I possibly made the wrong choice to leave because maybe the emotional emptiness and hurt feelings I was feeling along with only about 2-3 times of actual feeling the physical abuse to my body was no comparison to real life. Now that I've found my gifts I see I was still sick. It was so wrong to have my neck crack when someone has squeezed it so hard choking me after dragging my body from the hall onto the bed to do it because I got tired of him being late and pushed to ask. If someone is so upset to it than they should leave. I see how sweet, nice, and valuable I was and am. And just because no one else may have not or I may have not seen this doesn't mean it was always so. I understand that it's our obligation to find our gifts and use them. If we don't we are left to cruelty in this world. Animals know how to love and share space because of their incredible gifts and instincts that they use to survive. We all have to do the same.
I wrote a cool poem dedicated to the old man who lived in a shack in our neighborhood. I learned flash fiction in school this week.
I used to think and feel this of him when I was little though I never saw him.
The Man in the House on the Hill
I know you're in there. I can feel you trapped trying to reach out to me. I too feel trapped. The window is not so far away. You can make it. Creep to it. See me. Connect. You'll feel free. I promise.
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