I cannot write about what secrets I have been through for privacy has been invaded one too many times. There is no one I can talk to or confess my carried burden for a circle will make its way around. You, my imaginary reader would be a perfect ear if my words could be read without ink. Maybe this paper could self-destruct but in doing so my secrets still would not be free. I tried once, ten years ago, to come clean but the fear was overpowering. The fear of losing what was then my only salvation during a time when suicide seemed like an answer.
But I had a choice so turn your head. I could have if I would have so turn your head.