Shame on me

Almost a week ago I did something heartbreaking. At least it is, for me. I wrote something that I wish I didn’t have to write; a letter that caused me a lot of anxiety and plain sadness. But I thought it has to be written. It was very hard, I tell you. Especially that the person that will read it is someone I care about like a father.

He received the letter openly. And I thank God for being a Father to both of us. Yes, there was misunderstanding, but that was on my end. I was wrong. It was a shame. But I rejoice in the Lord that it was my mistake! Thank you for being Christlike in response.

Now everything is clear. And I can be carefree again. But I think it marred a wonderful relationship between friends. What a pity. But I’d rather resort to what I did than face destruction the other way around. (Tell me, is this part of growing up?)

So, because I was so ‘disturbed’ with my actions lately, I had to free myself of burden. What I did was a typical reaction from most women—I cut my hair.