This is my first post. Probably, no one will ever read this. But there's a kind of comfort in knowing that it's out there, that it's not just tucked away in my mind or my diary, no one ever to hear or see but me.
I don't know if you've seen 'The Interpreter' - I don't know who you are or if you even exist; like I said, I don't know if this will ever be read. But if you have, and you remember it, then you'll know that it's about a woman who has lost her family and her land to a corrupt African government. So she uses her position as an interpreter at the UN to get to the dictator who ruined her life and killed her brother. She finally manages to get some time completely alone with him. She has a gun, and she holds it to his head, and he sits, completely at her mercy. But she doesn't shoot. Instead she pours out all the pain and rage and sorrow he has burdened her with. She doesn't shoot; she just wants him to hear her.
I understand that feeling of desperately needing to be heard. I know what it's like to feel as if you'd give anything just to have the person who has hurt you sit down and listen to what they've done; just to have them listen to you, just for five minutes, just to have them listen without argument or denial. They don't even necessarily have to acknowledge that they've done something wrong; they just have to hear the injury you feel they've caused you. They just have to know what you're thinking and feeling. They just have to sit, and hear, and understand how and why they have caused you the pain you're feeling.
It's a really horrible feeling, to feel that way. To have a voice that isn't heard. I think that's the root of bitterness: it's a one-sided argument that will never be heard, raging in your mind.
I have that voice in my head right now, and I don't know how to quiet it. I hope that writing a blog will help.
