Stifled
stifled ... soul contracting, words smothered, secrets violated,
I feel violated, a secret of mine was revealed today, spewed
out in the heat of the moment. As if looking for another
way to wound, there was no apology, only a stubborn wall
of anger, mislabeled by the wearer as righteousness. This person
felt as though she had done no wrong. I felt betrayed, hurt. She could
only condescend, making my pain seem insignificant. My hurt and anger
was only a cover-up for a superficial, materialistic deed she had done; I
was told. Shouldn't I be relieved of the burden of not having to identify
my own feelings and instead be told my feelings and their source?