okay, just to clarify, that story below isn't 'mine'. i mean i wrote it, but i didn't live it. i've never been with a married man, or had an affair, or felt like a prostitute. but it is mine because it poured out of me.
i saw those eyes. i realized i was the only one holding the rock that day. no one else was condemning me. it was only me. i was making 'me' feel like a whore.
those words just flowed onto the paper, i don't know where they came from. it was unlike anything i've ever experienced before.
so, just so we aren't confused, it is fiction. i've told some friends that it was harder to post that than it was to post my deepest shame. it seems somehow more personal, maybe because you can reject it, i don't know? it's just far more intense than anything i've written to this point.