When I started this blog, I had a flimsy idea on what I was going to do with it. All the secrets that I wanted to share, needed to share.

Now, several days later I find that it isn’t always easy to unburden myself. After keeping the secrets for all this time, I almost don’t know how.

So, when I feel I can, I’m going to confess something here.

Today’s confession:

When I was 18, my best friend came to me and said she thought my father had touched her breasts while she was sleeping. She didn’t want to talk to my father about it or her parents. I didn’t know what to do. I went to my father and told him what she had said, accused him of molesting my friend. He denied it. He said he had just pulled up the blankets for her. There was something inside of me that didn’t believe him. A look, the smile on his face, the way he spoke. I don’t know what it was specifically. He had never done anything to me that was inappropriate in any way. I had no basis to believe he lied, just that feeling that he did. To this day, I still believe he did it.

FS