“Even if, at that time, you were alone, you knew that you were on the right path, endlessly loved.”
Fiction. Based on a True Releasing of the First Stone.
This journal entry is inspired by true events. Some of the characters, names, businesses, incidents, and certain locations and events have been fictionalized for dramatic purposes. Any similarity to the name, character or history of any person is entirely coincidental and unintentional.
Trigger Warning: our program often motivates people to discuss their trauma. If you find yourself feeling overwhelmed, please, take a step back to address emotional flashbacks and trauma before continuing to push yourself. If you are experiencing a medical emergency, call 911 or the National Suicide Hotline at (1-800) 273-8255.
She’s a murderer
Cold hearted, quick draw, killer.
It’s become an art over the years,
The murdering of herself.
She’s good at killing the past versions of herself,
The incomplete, awkward, garish shadows of her
That no one needs to see.
Too many mistakes?
Stake through the heart.
Shot dead in the night.
Stuffed and tied up and thrown into the bottom of the lake, Godfather-style.
She’s a vampire hunter out to kill the undead past
And keep it buried so it doesn’t leech away her life.
To keep from becoming that darker self.
But the past has a way of creeping back in
Reminding her of the imperfections
And the moments she’d rather forget.
Picking up that barbed bat spiked with shame
To go swinging at her own faults.
Over and over she casts the demons out
So others won’t throw stones at her mistakes.
But love always asks the question
“Where are your accusers?”
They are me, she responds.
I’m the one who throws the first stone.
“Love doesn’t cast stones,” he tells her.
“Can you let go of the ones you hold
And love yourself,
All the versions
And their stages of growth?”
Gradually, her fingers uncurl
And she lets the stone drop.