Sometimes, when we get hurt, we act like wounded animals. The strong ones lash out while the weak ones hide, but neither help or trust one another. Sometimes misunderstandings and miscommunications grow up to become mistakes and misgivings that may not ever be undone. Sometimes I want to start over.

People are so hard sometimes. We are all so different. We perceive differently, we hope differently, we mourn differently, we feel differently and we love differently. I will be the first to admit there are people in my life I do not understand.

It's possible to forgive anyone and everyone. I will be the first to admit I fail and do not. Every Sunday I confess my sins. I have no hope but God.

I am the hiding, weaker wounded. I hold many thoughts and feelings inside. The few times I have tried to express them, someone stronger strikes out and I recoil. I have learned to be silent; to wait and hope one day things will magically be healed. They rarely are.

My relationship with my father is difficult and I don't know what else to say.