I don’t feel guilty for the offenses committed against me by the men that I had let into my life, as if I had a hand in the heartache they caused me. I take no credit for others’ weak characters. I’ll only admit fault in not seeing through their acts. That is, I can concede that I was generous when I assumed that a man could be strong enough to do what is right. I do not feel guilty for making that assumption. I only feel pain when I discover my folly.
Anyway, that being said, I didn’t always feel this way. I used to feel as though I had done something wrong, or as if there was something I could have done to make him happy and to make things work. Once Upon A Time captured the short-lived existence of this youthful, romantic, self-deprecating girl. She’s dead and gone, and the memory of her makes me sick.
Destined to err… fine. Doomed to bear the burden of my folly? No longer.