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Proof by Ray Printer Friendly

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I hid.

Not because he hit me, but because he wanted to and wouldn’t. Because he wanted to and couldn’t. His eyes still show up in my nightmares, sometimes. They’re always stuck in some other face, but they’re his eyes, and they glow with that same desire to hit and to hurt…and there’s that same hatred.

I used to wonder why he hated me, but I eventually gave it up. There are some things that you can never know or understand, and if you continue to try after a reasonable attempt, you risk becoming a part of the…problem.

The curiosity threatened to push me over that line. I wanted to know; I wanted to understand. I tried to think like him. And that was when I realized that my curiosity would take me to places that I couldn’t afford to go.

I just wanted to know that he wasn’t a bad man. I wanted confirmation, closure. I wanted to know.

I wanted to prove that good men sometimes do bad things, if only to myself.

I wanted it to be okay to love him.


posted 5/12/08


Comments:
Entered By Hometown Girl From Unknown
2008-05-14 13:28:38

Is that about my life or yours?


Entered By Ray From Austin
2008-05-14 15:06:04

Not about mine.



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