I choose silence. But inside, I am raging.
I choose silence. But no! I speak proudly of you. So proud that makes me feel I don't deserve you.
I choose silence. And I know you think I am tolerating. That I am betraying. That I am weak.
Maybe, I am weak.
But don't get me wrong! I am melting every time I read your message. I hide behind doors in deep shame and self-hate every time you come and knock at my door and patiently wait for me to come out.
And when you left, I cried of anger, of pain, of grief. Blaming myself why I get stuck in a place where I keep on committing mistakes.
And that makes me feel more proud you have gone so far.
Your success have been my strength. Your achievements give me reason to hope, to believe, and to heal.
Just please bear with me. And have patience.
I owe you this lifetime for making it worthy to live another day.
Because my silence doesn't mean there is nothing left to fight for.
I am just tired. Tired of explaining. Tired of complaining.
My silence means I am still healing.
My silence means I want to accept the choices I made and forgive myself for all its consequences.
My silence means I don't want to give false pretense.
Stay standing for me.
Continue to encourage more women and motivate them.
Tell them, "it's ok" if they can't speak yet.
"It's ok" if they are stuck yet.
But, like me, they have to listen and slowly accept the fact that nobody can change their situation if they wouldn't allow people like you to touch them.
If they couldn't find ways to heal and recover and inspire others to do the same.
Getting out of violence is a journey.
Finding one's voice takes more courage.
So that, when all the healing is complete, speaking is no longer just inviting.
Speaking will sound like a roar, pushing every girl, every woman, every human being that believes in your cause. Those who clamor, #IStandWithHer, will create a barricade to stop all forms of violence.
Yes, that will happen. That is actually happening.