~ Confession ~
Disclaimer: This I guess would be an alt uberish type deal. Although, in my opinion more of an original than anything.
Love/Sex Warning: Should there even really be one? This would be rated like G or maybe PG. There's nothing explicit here.
Language: Also mild.
Thanks: to the box that nearly broke my hand. It must have jarred me out of writer's block or something.
Write me at: email@example.com
I have a confession to make. While it is not of any significant importance to anyone who doesn't know me -- and I'm not too sure it even is of importance to those that do -- I feel the need to share my secret with those that will listen. The strain of keeping this hidden has become too much for me and I'm sure that my mind will soon cease to function properly if I keep my secret hidden any longer. I fear my sanity will leave me, and am afraid that some of it has already left. I believe now, that I am slightly insane. For how can I be sane with this thing hanging over my head?
Even now I try to postpone this confession by going on tangents. I guess I feel I must ease into the subject before I divulge what I've hidden and I what I still hide. What point is there for me to confess my sin when no one even knows why I committed it or what circumstance even drove me to make a choice?
Damn that word. Choice I mean. It is a nasty hateful word that promises independence and free-thought but only delivers the possibility of pain and regret. I hate that word. It disgusts me. Choice. It brings forth thoughts of an everlasting ending with only hints of miraculous beginnings thrown in for torment. The word is wicked and I would strike it from my vocabulary if I did not have the obsession with the word that I do.
These days I find myself saying the word more than I think is healthy for an individual such as myself. I constantly think about that word when I remind myself that I had a choice. A reminder that I feel I could do without now, but will never let go.
Here I am, off on another tangent. I fear I cannot help myself. My mind rambles and it is all my body can do to keep up. I want so much for this to be told properly, but I'm sure some details will be left out because of the rush I am in.
I would start this confession by telling the full story of what happened by starting at the beginning, but starting at the beginning seems a little too cliché. Who really cares about how things began these days anyway? Don't we all clamor to just see the end? Don't we all just want to see and know the results rather than understand how those results came about? What does it matter that X plus Y equals five? Forget about the X and Y all we need know is the answer. All that really matters is that five. The answer doesn't even have to make sense; as long as it's an answer that satiates our curiosity we're fine.
So to begin at the ending I shall tell you:
I looked into her eyes hoping that she would understand me. Wishing with all that was my being that she wouldn't turn and walk away. All I needed was just a little bit of time. All I needed was for her to understand that my love was not yet strong enough let me give up my fear.
Looking into those dark green orbs I did not find what I sought. My hope was smothered by her gaze. But losing that hope was nothing compared to the pain my heart experienced when she just turned around and walked away from me.
I had made my choice and now I would have to live with it. Silently I wished that I would not live long while I said softly under my breath, "Dear God what have I done?"
That would be the ending. I'm sure that is all some may need to judge me. To tell me that I have committed a terrible sin. For some what I have already said would be enough. For those who desire to know more I shall give you the middle of the story.
I shall tell you:
Even though I had been with her for four glorious months my eyes still did not get enough of her. They feasted upon her beauty as a flower feasts upon the sun; both could not survive without this light to give them sustenance. Her golden hair, her bright green eyes, her lovely smile; I could get enough of none of these things. Although all features were already solidly burnt into my mind's eye it wasn't enough for me to know her beauty, I had to experience it in the real world with real time and real limitations.
She would ask me what it was I was looking at and I would tell her, "The only thing on earth that matters to me." I believe my answer made her blush because she turned her head but couldn't quite hide the growing rosy color that spread across her face.
"You shouldn't say things that you don't mean," she told me when she had recovered from the embarrassment.
"I don't know what you mean," I reached out and cupped her cheek in the warm palm of my hand. "I meant every word."
"Then why do you always hide me from your life?" Her eyes were sad, and I had caused that pain.
"I don't hide you."
I was given advice that no matter what you should deny, deny, deny. It was legal advice so probably didn't pertain to this situation, but I had nothing else I could use in my defense.
"Yes you do!" Her voice was harsh. I never liked hearing angry words pass those sweet lips. "No one knows about us. Not your family or your friends. No one that means anything at all to you knows about us. I'm tired of being your secret."
And I was tired of having this same argument over and over again. She knew the reasons why no one knew. She knew what it would mean for my life if anyone found out.
"I know you are," I could only try to be understanding. "And I am truly sorry for that. But you know I just can't..."
"Is your career really that much more important to you than I am?"
I hated that there was hesitation in my answer. "You know you're more important, but the job that I do is important too. I help a lot of people and if I must forsake my own happiness so that they can have better lives, then I'll do it."
Suddenly she was fully composed and she looked at me in perfect control of every movement she made. "Are you willing to forsake my happiness as well?" Even her words were so controlled that she made this sound as if it were a simple question instead of an ultimatum.
My first instinct was to shout that I wasn't willing to forsake her happiness. I shoved that instinct aside. Instinct had no room in this discussion. Everything needed to be thoroughly thought out. All avenues that could be taken needed to be evaluated and carefully calculated.
It took too long for me to answer her because she changed her simple question into a real ultimatum. "I can't live like this so I'm going to have to make you choose between your career and me." I opened my mouth to say something, anything to make her take away her words but she placed her gentle fingers upon my lips. "I won't make you answer now, but you will have to answer soon."
Slowly her fingers left my lips and I had so much I wanted to say. I wanted to declare my love for her for the billionth time. I wanted to tell her that only she mattered. I wanted to tell her that I could never live without her, but not one word crossed my lips. Instead, I stood dumbly and watched her walk away.
And there is the middle. There is even more evidence to the fact that I have done something horrible. Never have I said that I had done nothing wrong. This is my confession. By all accounts I must have done something awful to confess.
Have you judged me yet? Have you decided what my punishment should be for hurting her? I would take whatever punishment dolled out to me without question. I surely deserve it. Is that all you needed to hear? The middle and the end? If you are satisfied you may stop reading this confession, just walk away, but if you still need more than I shall finally tell the beginning.
I shall tell you:
It was a hot day. I was at yet another one of my functions that had been blotted into my jammed packed schedule. Today I would be visiting a daycare. It was good publicity hanging around kids. The public always loved that sort of thing and I was up for re-election. My opponent wasn't really anybody I was worried about but it never hurt to keep up with the reaching out to the nation's children thing.
Showing a little bit of compassion and love for the common person always went a long way. Please don't think that I didn't care though, because I really did. My assistants and advisors kept on telling me that I cared a little too much. My heart wasn't as black as it needed to be for the profession I was in. I wasn't callous enough. It had always been my greatest flaw.
I walked into the daycare with people surrounding me; some carried cameras, some carried recorders, some carried pens, and some carried all. I was greeted by the daycare owner and it was her.
All the noise and all the flashing lights that surrounded me disappeared. There was nothing in this world but her. I no longer held the position that I did. I no longer existed for myself, but only for her.
When I was younger my favorite aunt told me a story about how she fell in love with my uncle and married him all in the same day. They had been married longer then even I could remember. Theirs was a true love. I loved my aunt's story, but had never understood it until this moment.
Right then I was ready to give up everything for her, but my life intruded into this fantasy world I was falling into. Someone nudged me in the side, making me remember my manners, and I held out my hand and introduced myself to this wonderful woman pretending like what I felt pass between us never happened. It wasn't safe for me to feel it yet. There were too many people around. There were too many eyes watching and waiting to catch me doing something that didn't involve the affairs of state that could make it to headline news.
I spent the day with her and the children, but when it was time for me to leave I was sure to take her aside. I was sure to let her know that the way she looked at me had affected me. I had to let her know that this wasn't the last time I wanted to see her. She needed to know that I wanted to know her. She needed to know that, even though we hadn't known each other for a full day, I loved her.
Eventually we had to leave our secluded spot because I had to leave. She and my entourage walked me out to my vehicle and I sat down in the back of the limousine and watched her walk away, but I knew it would not be the last time I would see her and was full of hope.
That is the beginning. That is the story, but it is not my confession. My confession could be that I had true love but was willing to let it get away. My confession could also be that I was and by all accounts am a coward. These things that although true are not my confession.
My confession, my secret, is that I have love because when I made the wrong choice and I stood alone with my heart breaking I made another choice. I chose to run after her. I chose to hold onto her and not let her go, to never let her go no matter the personal costs to me.
So to you all I confess what I believe is a sin.
I confess that I have kept secret the greatest love of my life. I confess that I was wrong in doing so and should have been proud of the gift I had been given instead of ashamed of its nature. I confess that I am not willing to give this love up for anything. I put this love above common morals, above common judgment, and most importantly above protocol and what is deemed right.
I, Erika Isabella Sanders President of the United States of America, confess to being in love with one Lydia Sarah Andrews.
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