You, are not my shame.
My fear of you is my shame.
My fear that if this could happen to you, it could happen to me. And I would not be as strong as you have been, in surviving. In living. In existing. I’m ashamed of my fear.
My fear is that I don’t know what to do so I don’t seek, I don’t push, I just…wait. My shame, is that this is my excuse.
My shame is that I respond to my fear more than to your need.
My shame is that I don’t know what to do so I don’t do.
My shame is in unrealistic guilt. But the guilt is there, unrealistic as it should be, it exists.
My shame is my disgrace.
You, are not my shame.
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