This is a confession
Not many of us have the courage to confess the one sin that forever alters the way we see ourselves. There are mistakes we can admit to—stories we tell with a shake of the head and a tired smile. There are failures we label as lessons.
But for most of us, there is one thing we cannot say aloud. One choice that does not soften with time. One memory that refuses to be reduced to a simple mistake. A mistake that reshapes how we see the people around us, how we move among them, how we measure ourselves in their presence. And, perhaps most painfully, how we see ourselves when no one else is looking.
I am not exempt from this. I have one of those mistakes. I know, no matter how hard I try, that I will never truly forget it. It has become a part of my life — and of who I am in my own eyes. For a long time, I have lived as though I wished it never happened. Part of me still longs for what it was. Another, despises what it became.
And this, this is my confession.
