The Wasted Years
“Honestly, I can’t recall ever doing that to you,” she said. Her voice was soft, and sincere; her eyes wide with curiosity. She wasn’t defensive, just confused. And in that moment, I could tell... she was telling the truth. But me? I sat there, brows furrowed, trying so hard to keep the anger from leaking out through my eyes. My mind was screaming, “what do you mean you can’t remember? How can you forget the words that bruised my heart so deeply? How dare you act like it didn’t happen? After all these years of carrying this pain… this is what I get?” For years, I had rehearsed this moment in my head, the day I’d finally tell Mimi how much her words and actions hurt me. The day I’d speak my truth and finally find healing. And now that day had come. I had the privilege of sitting face to face with her. My heart was pounding with a mix of relief and fear. But the moment I brought up the past, Mimi looked at me with a puzzled face and gently said she couldn’t remember any of it...
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