It's been so long since I hold this journal in my hands. It feels unreal now, after so many years, to read the words, even though I remember the story. How can I forget it?
The first page I wrote was on the day of my wedding. I was scared shitless and with every second that brought me closer to the ceremony, I felt like I was sinking a little deeper into my lies, drowning in them.
At that time, no one could know the truth. I had to hide it, to throw it away, far from any eyes. Even mine. I had to throw myself away and fully embrace my painful lies in order to survive.
But a part of me stubbornly refused to do so. My truth wanted to live. Even if it was just on paper. So I started a journal. Childish, I know, but it was the only place I allowed myself to be me and I needed that so so mu
