Staring at a photograph

I've just stumbled across an image, wound torn open yet again. Anger and pain surging through me as I look on. This picture has almost a mirror like quality to it, hard dose of reality associated, which cuts hard and knocks me off my feet.

Hot, fresh tears, leave a stain on the surface of the photograph hoping to serve as a reminder to not be fooled again into thinking "it wasn't so bad"; as we so often do to soften the memory.

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Just over 12hrs ago, tears stained my cheeks as well. As I stood up to the hypocrisy, that is my situation. Said she understood ["no you don't", I replied," it's not happening to you"], thanked me for being so good about it all, etc.

I go downstairs to use the bathroom to find the situation, yet again, or just about. Selfish.

Yet, I don't know who or what I am more angry at. It is what it is. And I fell for it. Hundreds of times.
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