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Photo by Josie Stephens

I dedicated myself to finding the truth. Dug in places that were dank and dark, unearthing the unmentionable.

There were times I just couldn’t keep going, I was so frozen with fear. But, in its own bizarrely macabre way, my curiosity eventually always got the better of me and so I would once again pick up where I had left off.

Some labelled me tenacious and brave, others a blind fool. This really had no bearing on what I did or didn’t do. It was just background noise and I was aware of it, that’s all.

You know, I realize now that the reason I continued to push so hard, so determinedly, was because I wanted to be proven wrong. I wanted to be the screwed up one. The one that had gotten it all wrong. If that were the case, then it would be easy to metabolize all that had happened. It could be digested even amidst embarrassment and ridicule.

Even if people blamed me indirectly. Even if you left me. Even if I lost my job, my faith, my face. I would still survive, but if the truth were another…

Fact is, I have been procrastinating, throwing obstacles in my path, feigning ignorance for too long now.

The hairline fissures of uncertainty turned into cracks and then crevices long ago. And now I a am staring straight into a big gaping hole and I can no longer pretend to not see, to not know.

It was you all along.

I know you did it.

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