Sometimes

I wrote this when I was struggling to heal from wounds inflicted by a pastor

 

I always came on time, out of respect. Sometimes you forgot. Perhaps forgetting an appointment is excusable.

 

You seemed to forget many things.

 

Your sexual comments made me uncomfortable, but I made excuses. After all, who was I to question a pastor? I was a teenager.

You said you had your reasons for being hard on me. I thought the reason was that I deserved it.

 

I don’t understand why my pain was so funny to you. Or why you seemed to roll your eyes when I finally admitted that I wanted to die. Or why you lied and said you cared?

Sometimes I still hate you.

Sometimes I think I've moved on.

Every day I wish I had never trusted you.

 

It was like going to the doctor with a cut and coming out with a broken bone. Not everyone with a title before their name deserves it.

It took years to rid myself of the poison. Detox was slow.

But grace has started to flood my veins. I'm coming alive for the first time.

 

 

 

I don't like to admit it. Because it shouldn't be true, but sometimes a part of me

still hates you.

Reviews

[Theresa Anne]

This piece spoke straight to my heart. How strong you are to put it to paper. I believe writing is good medicine. It shows such pain in having trusted a person and to have that trust shattered into pieces. You have every right to your feelings of betrayal. The Pastor will have God to answer to in the end. So take your life back and let the grace once again flow in your veins.