I can’t escape this feeling of betrayal. No matter what I do it seems to always be right behind me. I know I don’t want to believe that I am being lied to, manipulated. I honestly don’t know how I would handle it. If I could. The dark, sticky residue of betrayal lingers all around me. I am encased with it. It’s a pain in my chest. I gag at the very thought. Who wants to be lied to by the ones you love? No one. I hate to be manipulated by the ones who hate to see you being manipulated by others. Betrayal and I have become one. Still I keep ignoring it because if what I feel is true everything will fade to black and the credits will start to roll. I’m not ready to have it finished but then part of me is.
I’m a little afraid that I might be wrong,
but something inside, scratch that, my intuition is telling me otherwise. Literally she’s screaming bloody murder but I cover my ears, thinking that eventually she would give up but knowing me that won’t happen. I never give up easy especially if it’s truly important. I’m persistent. I know I’m being redundant going on this ride like this, I’m just not ready. I’m not ready to be right. To let go. Betrayals agonizing, revolting stench tells me I don’t have long before my time runs out and all is on the table. I’m afraid. I hate fear. For some people he does nothing but ruin them. I am one of those people. I’m not ready but fate doesn’t wait.
I want to be that Bold, Dangerous, Girl on Fire type of woman who I know I am and just take this train head on, be a Jane Bond. But instead I’m playing the role of the poor, helpless, voiceless, victim who lets fear treat her as his bitch. Why I do that, because I let fear threaten me. Paralyze me. Though as my time is running out I feel my fiery women growing stronger inside. Eventually she will shatter the bulletproof walls I have up. Even in my sleep Betrayal stands with its icky goo dripping, seeping its way into my very mind, smiling its Cheshire cat-like smile at me, because we both know that there’s no use in running from the inevitable.
It’s going to happen, no matter how fast I run. I can’t hide, at least not anymore. I may not be ready but to Fate that’s irrelevant. This is my warning. I can take it and prepare for it or fumble and crash when it hits me and let the chaos corrupt me.