Saturday, April 28, 2012
House of Lies
I fucked up…
I fucked up BAD. In my own eyes I lied. In the eyes of others it may have just been failed to tell, whatever the case, I fucked up. I was scared to tell the one person who really deserve to know what happened, I won’t splay it out here because if I can tell the rest of the world but have fear in telling the ones I love there is a major communication break.
Last night I finally decided I should come clean. I’m not sure why it was last night and not when it happened, or when we were in better moods but I finally admitted I had withheld information, as well as that I had accidentally slipped the information to a friend when it first happened a few weeks back. I knew there would be anger, disappointment and a lot of worrisome emotions.
What I didn’t know was what would happen to me. I figured I would be punished, I wasn’t. Not in the common sense of the word, I have yet to experience any loss of privileges, I wasn’t yelled at. Nothing.
Somehow that hurt more than any punishment I have received in my life. Knowing I had disappointed someone I love so deeply and getting very little feed-back hurt beyond words, beyond my own comprehension. It would have been easier for me had he exploded the way I had expected, shortening the leash, anything, something, but not nothing. Nothing hurts.
Nothing cut so deep that I ran out of tears as I sobbed my guilty self to sleep knowing that there was sheer disappointment on the other side. I have felt small all day, like a child who knew they had done wrong and were going to be getting a good lashing from daddy, when he gets home, out behind the shed with a willow switch, leaving bruises and marks for days.
I don’t feel like I got away with lying, because I hurt so deep down emotionally. Yet at the same time I wish I could pay my penance in a way that can be acknowledged by the two of us so that it really can just be the past.
I lay here now, looking out the window at the bright blue sky and wonder what would have happened had I hid this with him here. Would the cold shoulder and the hurt be just the same or would there have been far more heated words, genuine tactile anger? Would I be punished? I guess I don’t know and I hope I never find out. Honesty is the key to any relationship and now that the truth is out there, exposed, leaving me questioning it, making me feel vulnerable.
They say the truth will set you free. If that’s the case, why do I suddenly feel so trapped?